


20 Questions

by polarising



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Recreational Drug Use, also i'm not entirely sure how long max is at blackwell before everything starts happening, assume that shit's just beginning to start, just with events edited where max being friends with nathan affects the scenario, kinda foreshadows the game in parts, now following a canon-compliant timeline, september 4th edit: updated description to more accurately reflect where this is going, so if you haven't caught up i don't recommend reading, some will probably guess what will happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4538574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polarising/pseuds/polarising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's obvious to pretty much everyone at Blackwell that Nathan Prescott is not well. What isn't obvious is what he's trying so hard to hide - Max has to admit, he does a good job of that.</p><p>She can repeat it as much as she wants, but telling him to get help is not working. Committing to helping the rich kid isn't what she came to Blackwell for, and never what she intended to do at the start of the year, but even though she doesn't know it yet, she can single-handedly prevent much worse things.</p><p>All by taking the time to ask about his scars.</p><p>30/10/15: laptop fuckin died and took all my files including the next chapter to the grave with it, pls hold on while i try to see if i can get everything back :'(((</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smokes

It only took a glance, a flicker of her eye, to see that Nathan was hiding something. She always knew he had a weird vibe, but you don't exactly walk up to enemies asking if they're okay.

The front of the dormitories are never exactly packed, but today it seemed quieter than ever. There are no football jocks throwing a ball around, nobody sitting underneath the tree and reading - it seems eerily, deathly quiet.

It's the perfect environment for photography, and Max gets closer and closer to a small squirrel near the bench. She's so close to getting this amazing shot that she can almost feel the praise from Mr Jefferson radiating around her - until somebody over there splutters and coughs and the squirrel dashes up the tree before Max can press the button.

She scowls at her lost photo opportunity and turns to see where the wheezing came from. She could've sworn Nathan wasn't out here when she came outside, but lo and behold, there he is, standing with one foot pressed against the wall behind him and smoking something that didn't look exactly like cigarettes.

Max knows this guy. He's not the nicest person around and he hangs out with one of the bitchiest girls in her class, but who cares? He's never done anything to her personally. His family might've affected a few people when they monopolised the entirely of Arcadia Bay, but hey, that's not _his_ fault.

As she steps over to him she catches the scent trailing away from the "cigarette". Definitely not regular tobacco, but again, who the fuck cares? She's not here to rat people out for some pot. That's just petty and won't get her many friends in the long run. Weed is the norm in high school and college. She's not going to be known as "that person" at Blackwell. She just wants to slip through with some friends and relatively unnoticed.

"Can't handle your smokes, Nathan?" she says playfully, approaching him. He casts an almost disgusted look in her direction.

He takes the joint away from his mouth. "Fuck off, Caulfield, you've probably never even lit one up."

"I haven't, no. But by the sounds of it, this one's your first. Did you inhale too hard?" She's not being serious, she's just mocking him. Trying to skip around the fact that they're not the best of friends is a challenge but she's determined.

"Fuck off," he repeats a little quieter, trying to hide the fact that he did indeed inhale too hard. "What are you doing out here? Takin' more shitty selfies to suck up to Jefferson with?"

"No. I was trying to take a picture of a squirrel. They come out when it's quiet. You and your perfect timing ruined it, though." She sees the glare that he gives her and knows that winding him up is just going to make him lash out. "I'm kidding."

"You'd better be."

The two stand with no conversation left, Nathan turning his head away from her and looking back ahead of him. He rolls his eyes when Max asks yet another question that she was sure she already knew the answer to: "What are you even smoking?"

"Weed, dumbass. The fuck does it look like?" He looks down at the joint between his thumb and index finger and blows out a puff of air. It's then that she sees it, as his jacket cuff creases slightly and coats his left wrist instead of rolling down with it when he moves his arm downwards. The silvery horizontal lines, and then the line right down the center of them that doesn't end where the cuff does. He catches her staring and shakes his sleeve down. "Can't you take your eyes off anything for more than a second? First me, then the blunt, now my fucking _arm_ , of all goddamn things-"

"Nathan, we both know I'm not looking at your arm for nothing."

"Not your fucking problem, bitch."

"You should get help."

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do," he snarls, taking another quick puff. "I don't need help. You literally have no idea."

"I have _some_ idea."

It's there that the conversation stops again. She knew he took medication for something (she'd heard it was schizophrenia, but she takes rumours with a pinch of salt), but seriously? Did Victoria know? Should she try and tell her? Maybe it was common knowledge to everyone but Max and she'd just found out too late.

Still...as much as he dislikes her, she can't help but feel sorry that he's angry or upset enough to do it. Frequently, too, it seemed, as they were in abundance and of all different shades of pink and grey.

He lets his foot drop from the wall and stands up straight when he sees her looking again. "Can you not just let me toke up in peace? Why do you have to be so fuckin' nosy about everything, Caulfield? Leave me alone. Go and hang out with your bitch Warren instead of harassing me."

"I know you hate me, Nathan, but...look, have you seen someone?" she asks, relaxing her tone. "About it, I mean."

"Don't start with the therapist bullshit. My dad pays my psychiatrist to do that and I don't see you sporting a PhD."

"I'm just asking. Does your psychiatrist know?"

"Why do you have to pick up on every little goddamn thing that I say and turn it into '20 Questions', huh?" Max can't answer this. "We don't even like each other. More to the point, _I_ don't like _you_. I don't give a fuck about what you're saying because you're only sayin' it to make yourself look like the good guy here. I'm not going to be interrogated by some dumb bitch who doesn't know what the fuck she's even talking about. _Do you understand_?"

Max nods and takes a step back. "You made your point. Loud and clear. I'll stop bothering you."

 

\---

 

She sees him again in the photography classroom during her free period, absentmindedly shuffling through pictures on the desk. He sees her too, and he looks like he hasn't slept at all.

"Can't stay away for one fuckin' day, can you?" he growls.

"You look tired. Long night with Victoria?"

"She's not my girfriend," he says defensively.

"With Hayden, then."

"I'm not a fag, unlike you." Max elects to ignore the insult. "Don't you have anything better to do, like taking selfies or whatever-the-fuck?"

"Well, nobody's around, so I don't really have any place to be." She pulls a chair over from the other desks and sits, looking at the photos on the table. "These are really good. You clearly know what you're doing."

"Thanks, I try," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He shifts a picture to one side, and then picks up two and places them to the other side, closer to Max. She looks at them in close detail - two monochrome pictures of a naked girl in ropes, one with her posed elegantly facing the camera and the other with her back turned. The subject has long hair that's up in a ponytail and some kind of pearl string around her neck. Her wrists are bound up to her elbow in the first picture and in the second Max can just make out ties above her knees. _Doesn't take a detective to work out what Nathan's into_ , Max thinks.

"Who's the girl?" she questions, gesturing to the photos.

"What? Oh. Nobody," he says, sliding them away from her. "Nobody you know."

"It doesn't matter if _I_ know her or not. _You_ must know her very well if she's willing to pose like this." Max tries to glance over at the photos again and notices the others that he's sorting - they all have a distinct theme. Dark, intimate, and tortured. "Are you sorting out which ones to hand in to Mr Jefferson? I'm not sure he'd approve of the whole...y'know, nudity and bondage theme."

"Are you kiddin'? Guy probably has a whole stash of secret porn pics in his albums somewhere."

"How would _you_ know, Prescott?"

"Calm down, I said 'probably'. He's an unmarried middle-aged man, the chances of him not having hundreds of photos of tits is slim to none."

_He's being incredibly open about this_ , Max thinks. _Although I guess talking about girls as sex objects isn't exactly new territory for him._

"How many of those were submitted by you?" she teases.

He shifts his upper body over and leans one arm over the back of the chair, giving her a look of disbelief. "You really fuckin' think I handed this shit in for marking? No. I don't roll like that. Sure, I give him the sadistic black-and-white stuff, but I'm not about to fuel that man's desire for underage sluts."

She looks him in the eyes, moving past the deragatory comments. "You really think he's a...uh, pedophile? That's a pretty serious accusation to make, Nathan, especially against a teacher."

"Whatever. He's all buddy-buddy with everyone. Vic likes him way too fucking much. Don't go around spreadin' that shit though, dumbass." He pauses. "Probably said too much. Don't say anything."

"I'm not going to...unless you don't talk to someone about what we discussed last night."

"Don't you dare try and fucking blackmail me, Caulfield. Nobody tells me what to do," he says sharply, his tone slightly more demanding and his voice louder than before.

"Nathan, all I'm asking is that you see the counsellor or something. They might-"

"My dad fucking _owns_ this place! You think the shitty _counsellor_ will offer better help than the therapists and doctors he's paying thousands for? You give the shittiest life advice, Max, you should win an award for it. 'World's worst fucking friend'." He stops. Max tries not to grin.

"Frien-"

" _Fuck you_. I'm sure whatever friends you have left would say the same," he jeers, looking back to the table and quickly pushing his photos into just one pile. He then stands suddenly and picks them up, pushing them into his pocket and stepping closer to her. The height difference isn't much, but he's still more intimidating when he's standing over her. However, it's still obvious that he's making an effort to appear taller. "I don't want to see your face again today, Max."

"Fine. You don't get help, I go to Principal Wells with your accusations."

He takes a step, closing the gap. Max tries to look up at him without moving backwards and folds her arms. "You can do whatever the fuck you want. But I will have your shit _wrecked_ , you hear me? You'll be _fucked_. So I ran my mouth and said shit. You should know not to mess with me or try and make a deal with me no matter what. No exceptions."

"We were talking just fine a few minutes ago. Calm down," Max says, taking more of a stern tone. "I only want to help because I care. I don't care what you do or say to me, I don't care what _anyone_ does or says to me, I'll still try and help them. Don't ruin your life, Nathan."

"It's already ruined - I came to this school."

"Are you sure your dad doesn't have anything to do with it?" she says warily, knowing it would touch a nerve. He grabs her upper arm.

"Fuck. _You_. You know nothing about my dad. _Nothing!_ "

For the first time, Max can see fear in Nathan's face. He removes his grip on her, shakes his head, and leaves, with nothing else left to say.

 

\---

 

She can see him smoking outside later that night. Whether it was weed or regular tobacco she doesn't know - but when he's finished with the cigarette he rolls up his sleeve and puts it out right on the inside of his elbow. He doesn't wince, or make any noticeable expression, but he drags his feet as he walks back to the dorm entrance and the door doesn't slam like usual.


	2. It's Not Eavesdropping If You Just Have Really Good Hearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to the people who commented on this, i'm shit at individual replies so here's a big heart-n-thankies to u all <3333
> 
> i'm sorry this is so late i had no inspiration
> 
> and also who knows where this is going
> 
> (not me)
> 
> (i don't know)

She watches both of them outside on the steps the next night, after a day of passively avoiding Nathan. He wasn't looking for her, and she wasn't looking for him, but she hears the two of them talking as she types up her homework.

" _So, what, you're Caulfield's bitch now?_ "

" _Vic, don't fuckin' start. I talked to her, like, twice because she cornered me and wouldn't let me leave._ "

This is what first gets Max's attention. She looks up from her laptop and waits for more, and hears a heavy sigh. She can't see from the window above her desk, so she wearily stands and moves to the window above her plant. She can see someone in a short blue nightdress and grey hoodie, and then someone else next to them in a grey sweatshirt and black jeans, both sitting on the entrance steps. When the figure in the nightdress slides their hood off their head and removes a box from their pocket, she can see the blonde pixie cut that only belongs to Victoria, and Nathan's chestnut quiff.

Both of them have lit cigarettes and...minimal makeup? Victoria looks like she stopped bothering to take it off halfway through removing it and Nathan looks very different - Max can see his dark circles from here and she figures that he must use _something_ on them to hide them when he goes out. Not that he'd ever admit to it, of course. That would put him on the same level of "metrosexual" as those guys with scarves and hipster glasses he complains about in art class.

"I'm not starting anything. I'm just _saying_. What did you say to her? What did she want to know?" Victoria asks.

Nathan takes a very long drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke out in one long tube-like wisp. "Nothing important."

"She clearly had something to say because you guys talked for longer than ten seconds. I saw you through the door, Nate, and you weren't...attacking each other or anything. You'd tell me if it wasn't that important. Right? Come on, spill." She looks at him, waiting on a response, and he keeps looking forward and doesn't answer. "Oh my _God_ , you _told_ her, didn't you?"

"Don't say it like that. She saw and then got it out of me later on. Girl's obsessed."

"So you like her?"

Nathan chokes whilst inhaling. Again.

"Vic, what the fuck? No. Stop pulling assumptions outta your ass. You really think I'd set my standards that low? Ha."

"Then why else would you talk to her for so long about something you don't want anyone knowing about?"

"I don't know, to get her off my back, maybe? She's nosy as fuck and if I didn't talk to her then she would've just tried again later on."

"I don't believe you."

Nathan hikes his sleeve up a little and scratches his wrist. "Fine. Believe - or don't believe - what you want. Anyway. Tell me about Zachary. How's that workin' out for ya?"

Max stops listening and returns to her desk.

\---

But then she _can't_ stop listening, because at around 3AM they're both holed up in Victoria's room, obviously either drunk or high (or both) and she can hear them laughing loudly at something. Max rolls over and tries to muffle the sound but the music is turned up and whatever it is they're laughing at must be funny, because they're still cackling.

She can hear "don't you-" and "I swear to God, Nathan" with a sense of urgency from Victoria's end and then more soft chuckling and "I'm going to-" from Nathan's. They calm down after a few minutes and speak more clearly, and Max can hear them through the music.

"Okay, okay, fine," Victoria laughs. "But you got my truth. Admit it. Answer it!"

They're nineteen years old and still playing truth or dare in her dorm room. Max finds this sweet for reasons she can't name.

"You ain't getting _shit_ from me, Chase. Give it up." Nathan's laugh can be heard again. "I said she has a nice ass, so what? I could say that about a hundred other girls. Just because it's aimed at Caulfield doesn't make it any different."

Max, just as suddenly as earlier, decides to stop listening and makes a more genuine attempt at sleeping.

\---

Sitting at her desk is not an option for Max. A dark blue sweatshirt and black jeans with that familiar quiff is all that she needs to make out who it is.

"So who have you snitched to?" Nathan growls, leaning back on her desk and making his point clear - he's not moving until she speaks.

"Nobody. If I'm honest, I considered going to the nurse, but I didn't think much would be done," she replies, gently setting her bag down at the side of the chair. 

"The nurse? How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"It was a rhetorical qu- you know what, alright. Whatever. I don't care." He shuffles forward and off the desk. Once again, the height difference is obvious, even with his slouch, as he dusts himself off.

"I heard you and Victoria last night. Must've been a pretty good night." Nathan stops and glares at her. "Was that Calvin Harris I heard? I mean, I'd insult the taste in music but I'm not sure who chose it and I know better than to insult you while you're standing right in front of me."

"The music is whatever. What else did you hear?"

"Was there something I _shouldn't_ have heard?"

He rolls his eyes. "Don't play this fuckin' game. _No_ , there was nothing _specific_ that you shouldn't have heard, but you shouldn't have heard the whole damn conversation because that's weird. I should've guessed that you'd eavesdrop. You're too goddamn nosy. What, do you record every time Vic's fucking a guy in there? Do you stand outside with your phone on 'voice memos' and save it for your own little snooping purposes?"

"She doesn't have guys in there often." She pauses. "No need to get jealous."

For the first time that Max has bore witness to, Nathan laughs out loud. "Oh, wow, you think I like her. Like, _like_ like her. That's good, but no. We're friends. Gotta run off and make some changes to your journal now, right?" He runs a hand through his hair and brings back his usual intimidating look. "I don't need this right now, alright? Just...I don't know, go take a photo of grass or something. Stop bothering me."

"I actually only spoke to you because you were on _my_ desk, chill the fuck out." 

"Yeah, and I asked one question. Uh, it was _you_ that bought up eavesdropping on mine and Vic's conversation, not me."

"I didn't eavesdrop, Prescott. The whole of the dormitories could probably hear you."

He glares at her, and then looks her up and down and steps back. He mutters "whatever" under his breath, thrusts his hands in his pockets, and stalks off, casting her a look that leaves Max confused as to whether it was of hatred or sadness.

_He constantly looks out of it,_ Max thinks. _I wouldn't be surprised if he's hopped up on drugs all the time._ She reaches and pulls her notebook and tattered pencil case from her bag, and pulls her seat out to sit down. There's a fifty-dollar bill resting on the chair. _Wait, does_ Nathan _carry round such 'small' bills? Wow._

She pledges that next time she sees him, she'll try and return it, no matter how stupid it looks. _The guy deserves food money, at least. Even if he does have a father-funded million-dollar credit card._

\---

There's a knock on Max's door at 5.30AM the next morning that wakes her. It's not really a knock, more of a vicious thumping; whoever it is really needs something.

Max slides out of bed, her hair sticking up at all angles and her sleep shirt sliding off her shoulder. She doesn't think it's anyone important so she doesn't alter her appearance before answering. A taller guy in a blue sweatshirt is leaning against the door frame. With no makeup, Max notes. His dark circles are very, very prominent, and his sleeves are rolled up, exposing the what looks like hundred of scars across both forearms.

"I left cash on your desk today. I know you found it. It fell out of my pocket," Nathan says, a certain rasp in his voice.

"Uh, yeah. I was gonna give it back but I couldn't find you." She leaves the door open while she heads to her desk to find it.

"Not like you actually looked for me," he comments quietly, peering around her room. She ignores him and pushes pencils and paper aside, racking her brain to remember where she left the money. Did she pocket it? "Hurry up, Caulfield, your room isn't _that_ interesting to look at."

She turns to look at him and gestures to her sofa. "You can sit down while I find it if you want." Sincerity would be a virtue right about now - if she can't find this cash she's going to have both student debts _and_ Nathan Prescott on her ass for money. _And the latter is definitely more terrifying._

"Yeah, no, thanks," he replies. "I'm not here for you to fake being nice to me." He remains resting against the frame, sliding a hand up and down his left arm.

She spots the bill and pulls it out from under her photography magazine. "Why do you need this so bad anyway? Your family practically owns this town, and you're here at this time hassling me for fifty bucks."

"Drug money. Hand it over, hard-up." _Fair enough,_ Max thinks, and shuffles across the room to pass the cash to him. He doesn't snatch it, surprisingly - he takes it from her gently and crumples it into his fist. Max sighs and looks at his arm. There's a couple of new cuts, deep red in colour and hastily sketched across his veins, and one more burn scar.

"Please talk to someone, Nathan. I'm not saying this to sound like a condescending bitch. I just don't want you to end up worse off here."

"I came here for my cash, not sugar-coated fuckery from someone who's not my therapist."

"It's not sugar-coated, it's concern from one friend to another." She uses the term 'friend' loosely. They're far from being best friends - far from even being acquaintances - but if she wants to help him, she needs to at least show genuine friendliness. He picks up on it.

"I'm not your friend. We're not friends." He stands upright again and looks down the hallway, lingering. "Yeah. We're not friends."

"Okay. Sorry. I won't say it again. Have a safe night. Or morning. Or whatever." He rolls his eyes. She laughs softly, out of self-consciousness. "Just get some sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my tumblyboob if u wanna: polarise.co.vu


	3. Victoria Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max considers making a deal with Nathan and her and Victoria have a nice chat about the dude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna put in a multiple choice kinda thing because i have two things written up and i can't decide which i prefer
> 
> another thank you to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and commenting - ily all <333

Nathan is very obviously stoned the next day. He stares at the board in science class for a solid ten minutes without blinking, like he's transfixed. Max wonders why he doesn't get called out on his hundred-yard-stare or his pale red eyes, but then she remembers that his parents practically own the school and won't accept any _slanderous remarks_ against their child. _He clearly put those fifty dollars to good use._

She finds herself watching his actions more than Miss Grant's - the way he taps his pencil against his book in boredom, and the constant jiggle of his leg under the desk in irritation. She hates to admit it (to herself, that is - she'd never say it out loud) but she's starting to think the guy isn't that bad. He could've done so much worse when she had his money, but instead he stood patiently at her door and waited.

"Max? Any answers to that?"

She snaps out of her own stare, much to the amusement of her classmates, and looks at the chemical formula on the board. Talking over the snide giggles, she answers, "I'm sorry, Miss Grant, I got lost in thought and I wasn't paying attention. I'd be happy to answer if you could repeat the question".

"Mmhmm, and Mr. Prescott over here is more interesting than sodium chloride, I get it." _Wrong_. "Pay more attention, please, Max. We have an assessed experiment coming up."

Max nods in response, and Nathan turns to look at her. She avoids eye contact, and he faces forward again and shakes his head.

 

\---

 

Max realises how much her choices impact other people as she tidies up her room and sorts out her toiletries for a nightly shower, still contemplating what to do about Nathan's self-harm issue.

If she tells anyone about it, Nathan will be on her ass and that's the last thing she wants, especially now that they're at least on speaking terms. But she knows he's not going to do anything no matter how politely she asks, and Max is aware of how easily it could get out of control when it plays in with whatever illnesses he has.

Should she tell the nurse herself? Even if it's just one person, they can talk to him and stop things from getting too out of hand. He would _hate_ her for seeing someone without his "permission". He'd hate her even more than he might do now.

She picks up her bag and towel and unlocks her door, and almost immediately Victoria spots and corners her.

"Well, well, Caulfield, I didn't think you had a type. Get very far?" she mocks, to Max's confusion.

"What are you talking about?" she asks. Victoria crosses her arms.

"Don't pretend you don't know. I saw you getting friendly with Nathan in Mark- I mean, Jefferson's classroom a couple days ago."

"We were _so not_ 'getting friendly'. We were just...talking about which photos he should submit."

"Yeah, right, Max, and I shop in Walmart's clothing section." She looks around, and leans her shoulder against the wall. "So what did he say?"

"About what? His photos? Oh, they were...interesting. The usual 'Nathan Prescott' stuff."

"Like, skulls and black-and-white faceless portraits? Yeah. No surprise."

Could it be that Victoria Chase was...jealous of her? Her tone didn't imply that she was happy to hear about her encounter with Nathan. He already said that she wasn't his girlfriend. To Max they looked more like brother and sister. "I've never properly looked at them before. They're interesting to look at, admittedly. Not _my_ style but the guy _has style_ , if you get what I mean."

"What _is_ your style, then? Pictures of Starbucks with a vintage filter pushed out of a circa-1980 Polaroid? Talk about hipster stereotype. I'm surprised Jefferson even gives your work a second glance."

Max shrugs. "I just enjoy taking pictures like that. Your shots are good, by the way. I've seen them pinned up in the classroom. I can see why Mr. Jefferson likes your work."

Victoria's face changes and looks to the side. "Thanks. I see why too. I'm just trying my hardest to get some contacts. Get around in the photography world so I can get to where I want to be." The brunette nods in response. "Listen, if you want to go for Nathan, it's not like I care. I'm not going to stop you. I'm just looking out for him because I'm his best friend, so..."

"No, no no no. I'm not _going_ for him," Max clarifies, laughing nervously, "I'm looking out for him too."

"You know?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Don't mention it to anyone, _capiche_? That's not something anyone wants going round. Especially not in your case."

Max nods again. "I hear you. I promise not to say anything."

"Good. Don't. Also, he gets attached to people that don't judge him and actually try to help him. No matter how angry he might seem about you talking to him, I'm sure he's thankful. That's how it is for me, anyway."

"I appreciate it, but why are you telling me all of this?"

Victoria sighs and pulls a face. "For your own good. Listen, I care about Nathan's wellbeing as much as you make it look like you do. I might as well tell you what's up for the sake of...y'know, womanship. Girls tell each other things, right? And you've proven that you're not _entirely_ a weirdo - if you were, Nathan wouldn't even want to be seen with you."

 

\---

 

"Hey, Caulfield. C'mere, I wanna ask you something."

The mellow tone of his voice is unfamiliar to her. _Does he talk to Victoria like this?_ she thinks. She saunters over to his place on the bench, thinking about why he wants to talk to her outside the dormitories, where everyone can see and he will inevitably lose any credibility he has just by being seen with her - Victoria was probably wrong about what she said.

"I already don't like where this is going," she jokes, awkwardly standing over him. He looks up and he's just as doped up as he was earlier, possibly even more so.

"Chill out, I'm high as fuck, I'm not gonna hurt you. Sit down." Max does as she's told, and leaves more than enough of a gap between them. "You going to the Vortex on Friday?"

"Uh, no. I'm not invited." She doesn't want to think about the repercussions of bad-mouthing the popular people to his face. "It's not really my kind of scene."

"Riiiiight. It's not _your_ scene, but Kate Marsh has already registered to come? Sure," he jeers. Max has to mentally rewind his statement. _Kate is going? Kate Marsh, the girl who had to leave a lesson becaue she forgot to feed her bunny that morning? Kate Marsh, the girl who wakes up every morning to play the violin and study her Bible? Kate Marsh, the girl who put up posters around Blackwell promoting abstin- what the fuck? Why is she going to a Vortex Club party?_

"I can't speak for Kate but I'm not into raves and stuff. I'd take a cup of tea and a movie inside over that any day."

"Fine. What's your favourite movie?"

"... _'Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!'_ is a good one. And _'Twilight Zone'_." She laughs when he gives her a look of disapproval. "What? I have typical nerd tastes, what can I say."

He scoffs and takes another puff of his joint. "You ever seen _'Saw'_?"

"Not yet. Maybe I will sometime."

"Cools." _'Cools'?_ "Anyway, stay in on Fri. I'm not down for the party. I know, Vic's gonna fuckin' kill me if I don't have shit for her, but whatever."

"Wait, why should I stay in?"

"'Cause I'm coming to educate you on good movies, dumbass."

"You really _are_ high. What are you on right now? Are you hallucinating? I'm not Hayden or Logan, I'm Max. Are you okay?"

"It's blackmail. If I get you up to speed on movies that aren't total shit, you're not going to report me or force the fucking nurse on me or anything. That's a deal."

"Deals are two-sided."

Another drag. "I know. But I also know you'll say yes, so I'm not going to ask again."

She sits, conflicted. Does she really want Nathan to come around and bitch at her about her movie tastes? And, above all, does she _trust_ him enough to have him stay in her dorm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mrrr tuuumbleeeee: polarise.co.vu


	4. It's Just The Drugs (Say no to Nathan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max is drunk-texted (probably high-texted, but there's no term for that) by the guy she declined a movie night with, and then receives a "surprise" visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three chapters in one day!!! :DDD
> 
> now watch me not upload anything for four months
> 
> EDIT: I FUCKED UP MAX DOESN'T HAVE A COFFEE TABLE IN HER ROOM
> 
> JUST PRETEND SHE MOVED THE GREEN BOXES BY THE SOFA TO MAKE ONE

 

 

 

"I hate to disagree with you, but...I've just got a whole lot of studying to do. I still need to get a photo for the 'Everyday Heroes' contest, and-"

"Whatever. It was a 'friendly'-" He signs quotation marks around the word, his joint nearly slipping from between his fingers, "offer, since you seem so fucking hung-up on making us best friends."

"As much as I'd love to say yes, I need to study. Maybe another time?"

He doesn't respond to her and takes another incredibly long drag, and Max can hear the sigh in his voice as he blows out.

 

\---

 

Max stays in on Friday night - not specifically because of Nathan, but because she was going to do that anyway. She listens to the excited chatter coming from the surrounding rooms and Dana's music blasting through the girl's dorms. She thinks it's quite sweet, actually, all the girls getting ready in each others' rooms - until she remembers that it's a Vortex Club party and most girls end up getting wasted, high, laid, or drugged (or any combination of the four).

She can hear Victoria leaving her room laughing - probably with Taylor and Courtney and with her pixie cut styled perfectly. Taylor will have a little white flow-y dress on and Courtney's most likely wearing stripes. Dana's music cuts out abruptly and she hears more doors shut. Checking her watch, she can see it's 8.33PM, which is earlier than she'd expect a high school/collage party to be held, but whatever.

Victoria's door closes and she can hear more loud talking.

" _Has Nathan got the stuff?_ " from Taylor.

" _You know it, girl._ " Victoria. " _He stocked up on shit._ "

Giggling from who Max assumes is Courtney. Then the talking quietens and she hears them leaving the hall. She stretches out across her sofa, and her phone buzzes on the coffee table. Reluctantly, she reaches to pick it up.

**_1 new message from unknown number._ **

She swipes to check it.

_**Unknown:** this party sux so far_

For a second Max is confused. She assumes it's Dana or Juliet but she has both of their numbers and so they shouldn't show up as "unknown".

_**Max:** Sorry, who is this?_

_**Unknown:** prescott_

_**Max:** Oh, hey. How did you get my number?_

_**Unknown:** askin ppl gets u places_

_**Unknown:** also i have access to skwl files. i have every1's number_

_**Max:** Not creepy at all._

_**Unknown:** fuck u_

She laughs.

_**Unknown:** im at the party rn  
_

_**Unknown:** drugs rnt helping  
_

_**Unknown:** vic is here 2_

A picture file is attached to the last message. Max opens it up.

_He certainly looks like he's having fun,_ Max thinks, smiling to herself.

_**Max:** Nice filter._

_**Unknown:** no filter, just lights_

_**Max:** You look like you're having more fun than you let on._

_**Unknown:** thats the drugs_

_**Max:** Got it._

 

 

_\---_

 

 

_**Unknown:** u shouldve com to this patry_

_**Unknown:** shit is crayyy_

_**Max:** I'm studying, remember?_

_**Unknown:** fuckin suuuuuure_

_**Unknown:** 10 bucks says ur fucking warren graham rn_

_**Max:** I'll tell him you thought of him._

_**Unknown:** so u are u little whore_

_**Max:** ;)_

_**Unknown:** u trned down netflix and chill for a science geek_

_**Unknown:** iss it lik e a pity blow or smthn_

_**Unknown:** becuase_

_**Unknown:** fuck tht noise _

_**Max:** It's not a pity anything.He's not here._

_**Max:** I don't know where he is._

_**Max:** I've been focused on studying all night. Completely focused. All night._

_**Max:** But if you still wanted to come over and tell me about how the Saw franchise is the best horror series ever, that's cool with me._

_**Unknown:** na_

 

 

_\---_

 

 

_**Unknown:** im comngi ovr_

 

 

 

\---

 

 

Max doesn't ask questions when Nathan comes knocking at her door at three AM with bleeding knuckles and a small black backpack, nor does she specifically invite him in.

"Got locked ouuuuutta my fuckin' room, 'lright? Stay here." She obliges and stays where she's standing while he steps in and then flops down on her sofa.

"So how was the party?" she asks, shutting the door and returning to her bed.

"I'm literally seein' bears. Everywhere. Like, dude, there's a fucking bear behind you. Run," he slurs, lying down. Max tries her hardest not to laugh.

"What did you have?"

"A bunch of shit."

"Liiiike...?"

"Molly. Uhh, coke. Molly. Champagne? Alcohol?" he says, doubting himself. "...Molly. Coke, I forgot that. Fuckton of 'shrooms. I have a looootta money that _doesn't_ go towards whores, y'know."

"You should sleep it off," she says, knowing her lack of drug knowledge is showing through. "Why couldn't you go to Victoria's room again?"

"Because she needs her beauty sleep, like all princesses do."

"Okay. But, so do I. I don't care, but I was about to sleep. So me and Victoria, we're in the same boat here."

"She's still out anyway. At the party. With the bears. Man, this girl, she had a bikini on, but she had the fuckin'...head of a grizzly. And she was smilin' and shit. She was like...Alyssa, but with more bear and more bikini. Like if Dana and Alyssa had a child, and Dana's hair..."

Max zones out and tries to sleep whilst he continues to chatter to himself about bears.

 

 

\---

 

Max wakes up smiling about the bear conversation, and wishing that she had taken the time to film it. _Nathan was so out of it last night. Hopefully he remembers every part of it and I can use it to blackmail_ him _some time in the future. Revenge, Prescott - girls can play at that game too!_

Speaking of which, where is the guy? She glances over but he's not on the sofa. The black bag he brought is left by the side of the coffee table, forgotten - another thing that Nathan's left with her unknowingly.

Curiosity gets the better of her and she slumps out of bed to pick up the canvas carrier. Upon opening it, her eyes are greeted by thin plastic grip-seal bags - a lot of them. One is filled with raw weed, another is filled with white pills, another with blue and orange tablets, and she digs through many more before she reaches the red-tinted bottles. One labelled 'risperidone' and one labelled 'diazepam'.

And then, right at the bottom, she sees two things - a pistol, and a knife. The latter has a line of red across the edge, a fresh addition to the silver metal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dumblr: polarise.co.vu


	5. Netflix And Chill (Say yes to Nathan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Nathan have a movie night, and Nathan takes one of her various virginities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three chapters in one day!!! :DDD
> 
> now watch me not upload anything for four months
> 
> EDIT: I FUCKED UP MAX DOESN'T HAVE A COFFEE TABLE IN HER ROOM
> 
> JUST PRETEND SHE MOVED THE GREEN BOXES BY THE SOFA TO MAKE ONE

 

 

"Sure, Nathan, come over and shout at me for liking shitty films." Max smiles. "Seriously, if you want to, then sure. I mean, I'm not busy, obviously, so-"

"Okay, I only needed a yes or no answer. Don't get dramatic." She shuts up. "See you Friday night, then."

 

\---

 

Max stays in on Friday night - not specifically because of Nathan, but because she was going to do that anyway. She listens to the excited chatter coming from the surrounding rooms and Dana's music blasting through the girl's dorms. She thinks it's quite sweet, actually, all the girls getting ready in each others' rooms - until she remembers that it's a Vortex Club party and most girls end up getting wasted, high, laid, or drugged (or any combination of the four).

She can hear Victoria leaving her room laughing - probably with Taylor and Courtney and with her pixie cut styled perfectly. Taylor will have a little white flow-y dress on and Courtney's most likely wearing stripes. Dana's music cuts out abruptly and she hears more doors shut. Checking her watch, she can see it's 8.33PM, which is earlier than she'd expect a high school/collage party to be held, but whatever.

Victoria's door closes and she hears more talking. " _Yeah, no, I know, yeah. Nate's not going tonight, says he has other stuff to do...yeah, I know. Weird._ "

Max swallows and wraps her blanket around her tighter. _He's actually blowing off the Vortex Club to come and watch shitty movies? Guy must really be tripping._

She stretches out across her sofa and lazily nudges a book off the end with her foot. Her laptop takes longer than it should to boot up - it's pretty old but it works reliably, and nowadays there's nothing she can't do on her phone - and she shuts down programs that are making it slower. She's really not expecting Nathan to show up so she lingers on random sites and plays games to pass the time.

It's nearly nine when she hears a thump on her door, and she practically leaps to answer it. Nathan stands in her doorway with a black leather laptop case and a pillow.

"I'll say this now: I didn't think you'd actually come. I thought you were too high to remember," Max says quickly. He gives her a look.

"If you remember, this is so you don't snitch to the nurse. And also because if you're cut out to actually chill with me, you'll watch these films, right." She steps to the side, and he walks in, with Max shutting the door after him. He looks around her room, pausing at her photo wall, and then pushing his laptop bag onto the coffee table. She moves hers to her desk, and shifts the blanket aside so he can sit down.

"I don't have any snacks or drinks...or anything, actually," Max admits sheepishly. He reaches into his pillowcase and pulls out two plastic bags and a water bottle.

"Figured it'd be easier to carry them in that." Setting the bags and bottle down next to his bag, he unzips and pulls out the laptop, and then opens it up. "So now, to make this more bearable for me, we have weed n' speed and high-grade champagne, because I'm not sure how well I'll tolerate being stuck in a room with Max Caulfield, of all people, for longer than fifteen minutes."

"You made the deal, Prescott!" she says cheerily, sitting down next to him. "And I don't think you're supposed to mix drugs like that. Of course-" she throws her hands up defensively, "you know more than I do about the subject, so by all means, correct me."

"Since when have I ever done what you're supposed to? Drugs won't kill me. I've already used shit like this before - it won't hurt me that much," he answers. Max moves slightly closer and looks at his screen.

His Netflix is pretty much what she expected, although he's so rich that she would've thought he'd have the ultra-high-definition deluxe director's cut gold editions of every movie on Blu-ray rather than standard membership Netflix.

"So which one? ' _Saw', 'Saw II', 'Saw III'_..."

" _You're_ here to educate _me_. Your choice. Pick the most fucked up one."

He looks at her and wordlessly picks the third one, leaning more forwards as it starts and taking the first plastic packet from the table. Max watches from the corner of her eye as he peels it open and takes out the little tube of paper. Some of the white powder spills out with it and he curses under his breath. Max tries to focus her attention to the movie but the next time she looks over, he's cutting the remaining powder into lines and snorting it through the paper tube. He sighs deeply from his mouth after each sniff and then leans back with the other packet. She recognises the five brown-ish rolls in it as joints.

"I rolled my own because I don't think you'd want little bits of Mary Jane all over the carpet."

"I'm...grateful."

"You'd better be." He pulls out one joint and holds it between his middle and ring finger, and then pulls out another one to offer it to Max. She looks at it.

"No, thanks."

"So I bring my high-performance laptop, booze, and self to your room to watch movies instead of going to a party and getting laid, and you _refuse_ my _free_ shit?" He moves the grass towards her again, as if reiterating the offer. "That's fuckin' low." She takes it from him and puts it in her mouth. He lights it for her, and - forgetting what she called him out on a couple of days ago - breathes in. She immediately takes it from her lips and wheezes.

"Can't handle your smokes, Caulfield?" he smirks, watching her.

"I've never- _hhhh_ , never smoked before," she splutters.

"Glad I took your smoking virginity." He blows out smoke from his own spliff, and she chokes more after hearing his last sentence.

 

 

\---

 

 

After both _Saw III_ and _Saw IV_ were over, and the critical comments had been thrown around ("Nathan, this is bullshit. She could've gotten out of that easy." "Don't try and tell me that you'd survive that."), neither of them make an attempt to reach forward and pick another movie. Nathan is jiggling his leg again, and has adapted the typical "manspread" position, while Max is close to falling asleep but still fighting to keep her eyes open.

"Next one. Wooooo," Max says wearily, putting a fist in the air in mock celebration.

She doesn't think about how she was always told to never take alcohol from anyone who you didn't see making it, let alone drugs. She doesn't think about how Nathan has slowly let his arm snake around the back of the sofa during the film, or how she took gulps from his water bottle without knowing the contents. She can't see him watching her as she involuntarily sways back and forth.

"Sounds like someone doesn't deal too well with drugs," he says. "Maybe you need to see someone. Lightweight."

"Noooo, I don't need to see anyone. Leave me alone, I'm just a little tired."

"See how annoying it is?" He leans and presses on the fifth _Saw_ movie, and waits while it buffers, and then flinches when he feels a weight on his shoulder that turns out to be Max's head.

He smiles.

She's out cold. Sitting upright and turning the movie off quickly, he snakes an arm under her knees and another underneath her own, taking her blanket with her as it remains draped over her waist. She's surprisingly light to lift, and he can hold her with ease, despite him being almost underweight himself. He steps towards the door and flicks the light switch off.

"Mmm," she murmurs. He freezes and takes a breath when he's sure she's settled again.

He sets her down on her bed before returning to the sofa and curling up, resting his head on his pillow and letting out a sigh.

 

 

\---

 

 

When Max wakes up, she has almost no memory of the night before. Her first thought is " _oh God, Nathan drugged me",_  but then she remembers that she took the weed voluntarily, and she drank whatever he had in that bottle voluntarily.

He's not on the sofa, and his laptop and pillow are gone. An extra black bag is left by the side of the coffee table, forgotten - another thing that Nathan's left with her unknowingly.

Curiosity gets the better of her and she slumps out of bed to pick up the canvas carrier. Upon opening it, her eyes are greeted by more plastic bags not unlike the ones she recalls him taking joints and whatever-else from. One is filled with raw weed, another is filled with white pills, another with blue and orange tablets - and then she reaches the red-tinted bottles. One labelled 'risperidone' and one labelled 'diazepam'.

And then, right at the bottom, she sees two things - a pistol, and a knife. The latter has a line of red across the edge, a fresh addition to the silver metal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love this misleading summary ;)
> 
> micro-blogging website url: polarise.co.vu


	6. Knock-And-Don't-Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote most of this in the space of four hours because i was stuck in a caR WITH NOTHIGN TO DO
> 
> i tried sooo hard to make it neutral (so that whether you had a movie night with nathan or not doesn't affect the dialogue/actions) but if you notice any discrepancies i'm asking u to ignore them :)
> 
> i also worked out the basic plot and where i want this story to go, so at this kinda slow, leisurely pace i'm looking at 20+ chapters (that includes any future multiple choice chapters) so hey! at least i know what i should be writing now!
> 
> and shoutout to katesbunny for being possibly the most enthusiastic reader i've ever had on a story - you rock :3c

"Hey, Kate. How was the party?"

"It was fine. Not my kind of place, but it was cool. I'm not into most of the stuff but I had a couple of sips of red wine and people were friendly to me." Max smiles at her friend. She seems cheerier than ever - going to that party did her good. She notes that she looks particularly cute in her pyjama set and matching bunny slippers. "I danced with Alyssa, mostly, and I talked to Brooke for a bit too. She seemed a little bit distracted though. Actually, I saw most of the people I know except for Nathan. Not that I want to see him, of course, but it's weird that I didn't catch him at all that night."

"He was probably in the VIP area. Dana told me once that all the popular people hang out in there." _Hopefully Kate didn't see him leaving early this morning. I wouldn't be able to talk myself out of that one._ "How are your photos coming along? For the contest, I mean."

"Oh, just average. I haven't captured anything particularly mind-blowing yet. I know I won't win, but I still want to enter a good photo."

"You have just as much chance of winning as anyone else does," Max reassures her.

"Not as much as Victoria does. Mr. Jefferson likes her, so she's going to get a headstart. It doesn't matter though. Her pictures really are good so she deserves it if she wins."

Max nods in understanding. "Yeah. Uh, anyways, are you free next Friday? We could go get tea again, maybe visit the library."

Kate beams and answers instantly. "Of course! I mean, yes, I am. That'd be lovely." The brunette laughs softly at her eagerness, and the two exchange goodbyes before they part ways, Kate presumably heading to the showers judging by her toiletries bag, and Max headed outside to get a breath of fresh air.

 

  
\---

 

  
There are no wisps of white coming from the Marlboros of rich kids in red jackets at this time of the day, nor are there any snide, high-pitched cackles of laughter from the perfectly shaped and stained lips of posh girls in cashmere. Two jocks are throwing a football around and a small huddle of girls Max doesn't know the names of are perched on the grass, chatting idly in the sun. The front of the dormitories has never been this quiet on a Saturday lunchtime - unless, of course, a Vortex Club party took place the previous night and everyone who was a somebody was nursing wicked hangovers. She remembers that now, along with the fact that the usual host of said parties had ended up in her dorm last night and left before she'd even woken up.

  
_**Unknown:** i left a black bag in ur room_

_**Unknown:** drop it bk here_

_**Unknown:** room 111_

_**Max:** Will do._

  
The boy's dormitories are unexplored territory for Max. She's never had any reason to go in there as any 'transactions' usually take place outside or inside the school itself. Not that she's never seen any dudes in the girl's wing, of course - friends spending time in friends' rooms isn't an uncommon occurrence and others generally aren't hostile if people visit with good reason.

Although 'good reason' normally means that people are dating. Not that Max never entertained the idea but it would be _way_ too fucking weird to linger on Nathan Prescott, of all people, actually _liking_ her. At best they'd be good friends. She thinks that befriending him is a better route to take than making an enemy of him. God knows what he intends to do with the pistol at the bottom of his bag, and Max doesn't want to be on the receiving end of a bullet from that barrel. Keeping on speaking terms would be ideal.

Max turns around with a sigh and steps back into the dormitory building, this time taking the stairwell to the boy's area rather than the girl's. She notices that the surrounding wallpaper is a pale ash grey colour, much different to the creamy yellow of her more familiar counterpart. As soon as she approaches the top of the stairs, she can hear cheering and whooping from the lounge area, despite it being across the other side of the hallway, and writes it off a football game being broadcast.

She pushes open the door to the room corridors. It's not startlingly different, aside from the room layout and the presence of obscene graffiti. She wonders if Warren is responsible for any of the doodles. Speaking of which, she hadn't woken up to a "let's hang out" text from him, which is odd. _He's probably asleep or busy,_ she thinks, and scans the doors next to her for numbers. 114, 113...

A room map is plastered onto the wall above the radiator - however, a quick glance tells Max that she's not going to find it very useful. The whole sheet has crude graffiti scrawled over it, with some room diagrams being completely blacked out by marker and thus rendering the whole thing completely unhelpful.

Around the corner, room 111 is suddenly unmistakable, especially with the slate reading _"Prescotts own this bitch"_ in red marker. If she's being honest with herself, Max isn't entirely sure if she wants to be hanging around this guy's room. Unfortunately, the consequences of not returning Nathan's stash _heavily_ outweigh a simple knock-and-deliver operation, so she sucks it up and raps on the door. No answer.

She hesitates before knocking again. Almost immediately the door unlocks, making her flinch, and a disheveled Nathan answers, the circles under his eyes making it obvious that he didn't get much sleep after leaving her room.

"Fuck, you have no patience," he mumbles, leaving the door open and returning to sit cross-legged on his messy bed. It's clear that he got out of bed just to open the door, judging by his bedhead and sleep-deprived expression. Max steps in and shuts the door, looking around at the near-pitch black cave of a room.

"Sorry that I disturbed your beauty sleep." She holds up the black bag, and he gestures vaguely to his desk, so she sets it down on there before turning back to look at him. He has one earphone in and the other rests on his blue pyjama shorts, which look like they're hanging off his almost painfully thin frame. His sweatshirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, exposing his cuts and burns, and Max doesn't feel the need to lecture him until she sees double the amount of scars littered along his skinny legs.

He tiredly opens one eye when she starts to speak. "Nathan, seriously, you need to get help. Your legs are torn to shreds and you look starved."

"And you commenting on it improves my self-esteem how, exactly?" he growls, opening both eyes to give her the most deadpan look imaginable. "Don't get fucking smart and try and boss me around. Go hang out with Graham more if you want a beta guy for your dominatrix fantasies."

She nods towards the print on his wall of a bound woman. "It's not really your place to be kink-shaming," she says without missing a beat.

"Hey, that's an art form. Jefferson says to look at the art and not the artist. Do you not remember any actual information that the guy you get yourself wet over says?" He lets a casual smile slip onto his face. "Besides, you wouldn't know the first fuckin' thing about BDSM."

"Who says I wouldn't? I've read a lotta fucked up things in my time spent on the internet."

"If you think that even begins to touch on 'fucked up internet culture' then you clearly haven't spent that long looking."

"I'd pay good money to see your browser history then, smartass," she grins.

"Nice try. I do all my shit anonymously. Don't want the feds checking in on me more than they probably already want to." Max remembers what she read about people using browsers that can't be tracked, and that they're normally used by drug dealers or pedophiles. She hopes from the _very bottom of her heart_ that it's the former. "Anyways, uh, yeah. Thanks for dropping that off. If anything from it is missing expect me to break down your door later. I'm too tired to do anything now."

"Yeah, you should get some sleep. I'm sure you need it after last night," she says cheerily, letting her eyes drift back to the abundance of cuts all over his exposed skin. He raises his eyebrows for a split second and puts his other headphone in, and Max takes it as her cue to leave. She opens the door and treads out as quietly as she can, shutting the door slowly and carefully.

"Hey, Max, are- Max?"

She winces at the voice. Warren heads around the corner to her, a wet towel slung over his shoulder and his hair untamed.

"Hey, Warren," she says nonchalantly, as if she hadn't just been caught leaving the school bully's room.

"Why were you in Nathan's dorm? Are your standards getting _that_ low?" he jokes. She laughs a little.

"Not quite," she answers. "He just left something somewhere and I found it and gave it back. I'm being a model student."

"Did he leave his handjob virginity in the locker rooms and you had to give it back along with every ounce of regret you've ever felt?"

"Do boys just constantly think about sex or what?"

"Good question-dodging skills, Mad Max, but you gotta answer mine first."

"No. He left a bag in the classroom and I returned it. Is that good enough, Sherlock?"

"That's fine, although I'll be forever questioning how you had the courage to go into that psycho's room. And to satisfy you, yes, all boys think about sex. In fact, our natural instincts tell us that _everything_ can be brought back around to sex."

"Gross. I'd appreciate you not turning any of this into a perverse joke, thanks."

"No problemo." She nods in thanks. "I'm gonna go sort myself out. See, _that_ sounds dirty. But yeah, I'll see you later maybe."

"Have fun 'sorting yourself out'." He gives her a grin and heads into his room, which amazingly, hasn't yet been vandalised by Prescott across the hall. _I guess he just doesn't have a reason to,_ she thinks.

She passes the boy's bulletin board, and allows herself to laugh at a note asking for the safe return of an iPad full of cat pictures - she'd recognise the same scratchy handwriting as on Nathan's slate anywhere.

 

  
\---

 

  
_**Max:** So you're a cat person?_

_**Max:** I noticed the flyer on the board._

_**Max:** Sorry about your kitties, btw._

_**Unknown:** how the fuck did you know that was mine_

_**Max:** It's the same handwriting as on your slate, duh._

_**Unknown:** get fucked caulfield_

_**Max:** What? Sorry for recognizing your handwriting I guess._

_**Max:** Sleep._

 

 

\---

 

 

Max is stuck for things to do for the rest of the day as she aimlessly wanders around the front of the school. It's pretty busy; the skaters are out in full force, Evan is perched on his usual picnic table with his portfolio laid out in front of him, and Warren's friend Brooke is cautiously flying around the fountain what Max _thinks_ is a drone. She considers taking the bus into the town and checking out the bookstore, and maybe seeing if she can find the diner that her old friend's mother owned. She hasn't been back to that place for a _looooong_ time. She wonders if it's even still there - she hasn't had the time to properly look around the town yet and she's sure that her recollection of locations is flawed after five years.

 _Chloe Price._ That was her friend. She knows she still lives here. Ideally she should take the time to at least give her a call and catch up properly. Although getting to know people at the school she'll be at for the next couple of years is pretty important too.

She wearily flops down onto the front wall - _hey, it's the perfect height for sitting, I can't understand why Principal Wells gets so annoyed at all of us out here on it_ \- and toys with the idea of phoning Chloe now, twisting her phone around in her hands. Maybe she got a new number? It's likely - the last time she saw her, she had a chunky flip phone and a glitchy SIM card. She'd have to do a good amount of rooting around to find her new number.  _Or maybe you're just making excuses, Max. Stop putting off seeing your best friend again._

Before she has a chance to make her _own_ adult decision on what to do, she gets another few messages that will ultimately determine where she goes again today.

 

**_Victoria:_ ** _Need to talk to u_

_**Victoria:** Meet me outside dorms_

_**Victoria:** Now_

 

Max stands with a sigh after reading the urgent-sounding texts, reconsidering her plans for later. She'll now have to work her ideas around whether or not she gets torn to pieces by Victoria over something petty - what that something is, however, Max doesn't know yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna point out my own grammar inconsistencies here - i'm british, so i use "s" instead of "z" in words like "recognise/recognize". in description and dialogue i've left any affected words with an "s", but in messages i've changed it to a "z" to make it read more like an actual text? i hope that makes sense, i'm gonna try and do the same with stuff like "go and get/go get", for example - i'm just used to typing out things how we do here but i also want to make this as reader-friendly as possible :)
> 
> bumblr: polarise.co.vu


	7. Semicolon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: this chapter takes a pretty dark tone. i don't really recommend reading if you're already in a bad mood - there's a lot of focus on depression and the like. come back at a later time, if you want to.
> 
> however, i do advise you to read the end note if you feel this way.

The look on Victoria's face as Max approaches her spot on the dormitory steps doesn't have a name. It's somewhere between "confused" and "annoyed", although neither of those could be used to describe it alone. Max suddenly isn't sure whether she's on good terms with Victoria and racks her brain trying to think of what she could have done to annoy her.

"I saw it, alright? Before you start on about that," Victoria says as Max stands in front of her. And once again, Max is confused.

"Saw what?"

"Nathan leaving your room this morning. I don't want to know why from you. Just know that if anything is going on between you, I _will_ find out. He's my best friend. He tells me everything."

"Nothing is going on, I promise. He just...wanted to come round, I guess. I wasn't even awake when he left."

"Like I said, I don't want to know. I don't even care all that much." She sighs and takes a deep breath. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I went to his room just now to pick up some weed. I know he leaves his door unlocked when he's in there, so I just went in. He's never doing anything weird normally-" Max desperately wants to believe that what she thinks Victoria is going to say is true. "-but I went in and he had a fucking _gun_ on the bed and a knife and pills, and- and there was blood fucking _everywhere_ and-"

"Vic, Victoria, calm down," Max cuts in, noticing the blonde's panicked expression and fast speech. _Not what I was expecting at all._ "What was going on?"

"His arm was slashed, right down the middle. It looked like he'd just been attacked."

She thinks back to when she first saw his scars, how each line was small and precise. She pictures a gaping red gash and instantly regrets it. "What happened then?"

"I...didn't know what to say, Max. I knew, obviously, but just seeing it there...he didn't even look at me. I could see he'd been crying but he didn't look at me. He told me to fuck off, and then I tried to ask him about it and he said it again even louder. He was just sitting with his head in his hands and weapons and pills all over the bed and _I want to help him_. I love him. He's a great guy. But I can't do anything if he's holed up in his room slitting his fucking wrists when he thinks nobody's around. I can't convince him to take his pills any more either." Victoria pauses and looks up at Max, and then looks back down and shakes her head. "Cutting the melodramatics, he's slowly killing himself."

When Max had pointed out the lines of his wrist, she had put it down to anger and impulsive reactions. She doesn't know the full details of his mental illnesses, and she's not sure that she wants to. She suddenly feels awful for giggling with Warren about how much of a freak Nathan is back at the very start of the year.

Interrupting her thought process, Victoria says, "Maybe you should go talk to him."

"I already did earlier. He left a bag in my room. I may have looked in it," she admits sheepishly. Victoria looks at her expectantly. "It was a bunch of pill bottles and hard drugs. And then a gun and knife at the bottom. _Now_ I know why he wanted it back so soon."

"The drugs, I'm not so concerned about. Everyone does some. It's just Blackwell culture." Victoria rolls her eyes - Max isn't sure why. _Maybe because I talked about the drugs being there like they were just as dangerous as the gun and knife? I really need to start pretending that I don't care about everyone doing drugs._ "But I don't trust Nate with a gun. He can handle himself, but he probably carries it around like a wallet. He's too goddamn impulsive, he's gonna blow some poor fucker's brains out without even thinking. Nobody gets rewinds in life. He doesn't seem to realise that his actions have consequences."

Max thinks about it. "What about the knife?"

"I don't trust him with that either. I know now that that's what he uses to...uh, cut himself," she says, hesitating. "If that's taken away from him, he'll find something else. Like I said, he gets attached to everything that provides him some comfort. Booze, coke, weed, even prescription pills...I don't want to have to help arrange my best friend's funeral, Max. His dad doesn't fucking care about him, he's told me. He'd be more concerned about not having a son to continue the prestigious Prescott name." Victoria clenches her fists, and then releases and breathes out through her nose. "I'm trying to help him, I really am."

"I know, Victoria," Max assures her. "I know you are. And I am too. So I think we've gotta stick together. We're the only ones looking out for him now."

 

 

\---

 

 

Shuffling nervously from foot to foot, Max waits outside Nathan's room. The corridor is completely silent, aside from the distant music she can hear from the TV lounge, and she isn't sure whether to go straight in or knock or text him or _what_.

She remembers what Victoria told her and she definitely does not want to walk in on him doing anything. On the other hand, if she knocks and makes herself known, and he decides that he doesn't want her around and locks the door she won't be able to even talk to him. Against her better judgement, she knocks lightly on the door.

"Nathan? I'm coming in, is that okay?" Silence. She slowly pushes the door open.

His room is nearly pitch black, illuminated only by the light streaming through the open door. It's significantly darker than it was earlier, and Max puts this down to the blinds being pulled down and any daylight being completely shut out. His overhead projector is shut off and most of the items from his desk are lying on the floor, including a now-smashed bottle of champagne, which stains the carpet.

She steps in and shuts the door after her, and hears a choked sob. There's nobody on the bed or the sofa and she's confused until she sees a figure move jerkily by the far side of the bed.

"Nathan?" she repeats, approaching him.

He's sitting with his back against the bed, his knees curled up to his chest with his arms folded over them, and his head resting atop. He isn't wearing his usual clothes - instead he has his pyjama shorts and a plain white t-shirt on, the short sleeves allowing Max to see the full extent of his self-inflicted injuries. Around him lies another bottle and pill boxes, the same knife as Max recalls seeing in the bag, and various smoking accessories. Another sob. His situation is not poetic, nor is it something that Max would find interest in a photo of; she can see how deep the cuts are, how dark the blood is, and the items by his side paint a typical picture of a troubled teenager.

Her first thought is to call for help, but knowing Nathan things would get worse before they get better. She slowly slumps down by him and is able to hear him crying quietly into his arms. She sits an arm's length away from him in silence until he speaks up.

"What the _fuck_ are _you_ doing here, Max?"

"Stopping you from getting any worse."

"You need to leave. Like, _right fucking now_. I don't _want_ you here."

"I know perfectly well that you don't want me here, but I'm scared that if nobody's here there's going to be an ambulance in the morning and a funeral the next day. Nathan, you need serious help."

"Don't tell me what I already know."

She shuffles closer. "Well, it bears repeating because you aren't listening. You aren't listening to me _or_ Victoria. Victoria loves you. You two are so close you're basically brother and sister. Don't tell me that you don't love her too. She doesn't want to see you like this any more than I do."

"The door's right over there," he says bitterly, his voice sounding more like a snarl. "I don't need some irrelevant nosy ho lecturing me on how I shouldn't fuck my life up any more."

"Listen to Vic instead, then. You can just stop talking to me right now and never even look at me again. You didn't have to speak to me in the first place. But _please_ , just talk to Victoria. She cares about you so, _so_ much. We're only on speaking terms because I cared enough to ask about your scars a few days ago. You didn't have to put the effort in to _keep_ us on speaking terms. Tell me now, and I'll leave right now and pretend that I never had any involvement with Nathan Prescott."

But he doesn't, just as Max expected. He balls his fists up, he lifts his head up and stares ahead of him, he coughs and splutters, but he doesn't tell her that he doesn't want her around. He grabs a fistful of pills and holds them briefly before throwing them at the bookcase opposite him, and he tosses the bottle over to rest beside his desk, where it lies cracked but not smashed. Max doesn't try and stop him. Taking his anger out on inanimate objects is miles better than shredding his arms to pieces.

He suddenly throws his head into his hands and makes a loud sobbing sound. Max hears him muttering something under his breath in between gasps, but she does the obvious thing and moves closer, slowly putting an arm around him in comfort. He continues to sob.

In all of her (admittedly short) time at Blackwell, she has never seen someone so loud and fierce look so vulnerable. She wants to help him as much as Victoria does but it's difficult when he has episodes like this, and he doesn't want to see anyone and insists on locking himself away with only drugs, alcohol and blades for company.

"Hey," Max says softly. "You're alright. I'm here."

And maybe those are just the words he needs to hear, she thinks, because as soon as she says them he moves every so slightly closer to her and controls his breathing a little bit more. She remembers what Victoria said to her - _"he gets attached to anything that brings him a little bit of comfort"_.

Blood wipes onto her sleeve and stains Max's light grey hoodie due to her close proximity to his open wound, and it reminds her that they should probably get it patched up before it gets infected. Unfortunately, she knows that he won't even consider going to the nurse or the local hospital, so she doesn't mention it and makes a mental note to tell him later so they can figure something out.

"Pass me a cigarette."

His voice startles her and she hesitates before reaching to the box on the floor and removing one to pass it to him, along with the bright orange lighter. He doesn't notice until she lightly taps the lighter against his knuckle, to which he responds by taking them from her and flicking the switch to produce a soft glowing flame. He stares at it with tired eyes before lighting the cigarette and pressing it to his lips. No eye contact is made at all during this transaction, and Max's arm is still around his shoulders without any attempt being made to remove it.

He takes a drag on the cigarette and exhales heavily, pushing the smoke out into a cloud in front of him. As awkward as it is, Max has to admit to herself that this is sort of soothing to her, too. Nathan trusting and respecting her enough to let her see him in such a state is definitely a step forward in getting him help. Whether it takes a week or the next sixth months, Max is going to at least try.

Another puff of smoke. "So get this, the shy camera girl ends up talking the rich psycho outta suicide. How- how's that for cliche?"

"I think it works pretty well," she laughs, before taking in the full meaning of the sentence. "So you...before I got here, you...actually tried to kill yourself? Nathan..."

"Well, I swallowed a shitload of pills and booze, and my insides are currently trying to kill me, and my arm stings like a _bitch_ , but _no_ , it didn't work, _clearly_." He says it almost _too_ casually, but Max is almost relieved to hear the sarcasm back in his voice.

"You've tried this before?"

He gestures to a different long vertical line along his arm. She tries to focus on that and not the gaping flesh wound.

"You n-"

"Don't you fucking dare."

"I'm serious."

"I know. But news flash, you saying it over and over like a fucking parrot isn't helping, like, at all."

She doesn't know how to respond. She settles for an expression of her previous thought - "At least you're being rude to me again. That makes me feel much better".

"You either get hostility or-" he takes a sudden drag on the cigarette, "-or weird psychotic ranting. And you _really_ don't want to know about that, trust me."

"I mean, if you needed to rant or vent or whatever, I'm all ears."

He looks like he's considering it. "No, I'm good for now. But if you start to get some weird-ass texts at random points in the morning, that's me taking you up on that offer."

 She laughs softly, sensing the trust in his voice. "So, do you want me to go? Are you okay now?"

"No," he says quickly. "I mean...uh, no, stay. Just in case things, y'know, get bad again."

 

 

\---

 

 

Max stays. She stays with him for another hour, and she doesn't do anything but make idle conversation and sit with her head leaning on his shoulder, but he surprisingly doesn't mind. Worries surrounding infected wounds and the mixture of alcohol and drugs cloud her mind but she doesn't dare bring it up to the now somewhat relaxed Nathan. He's sitting with his knees up and his arms outstretched, elbows resting on his kneecaps. He has long since finished smoking his last cigarette.

She's taken aback when he says the words "thank you for tonight" to her.

It's almost uncomfortable to hear. A compliment, a _thank you_ , from the mouth of _Nathan Prescott_ , of all people? So she doesn't reply. And she hopes he doesn't take it personally when she sits in silence for two minutes before remembering to respond.

"It's fine. I just don't want anyone else I care about to end up dead," she says finally.

"That implies there was someone else." She looks at his arm. A long scab has formed over the cut, but all the other white lines and pink burns are still visible. It makes her want to cry thinking about what kind of pain he's in to do that to himself.

"Mmm. There was. My friend's dad died in a car crash when we were thirteen."

"Oh."

Nobody speaks after that. Max reaches out and ever-so-gently runs a finger over his wrist. He tenses up but relaxes pretty quickly. "You're a very unhappy person," she says softly.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"You've tried to kill yourself. Multiple times."

"Prescribed medication and then a drink binge doesn't constitute as a suicide attempt."

"It does if you know that taking both at the same time can kill you."

"It didn't before and it hasn't now."

"But it _could_. I don't even want that possibility _there_."

He remains silent for a while. "You know _nothing_ about my problems, or my family, or my life. Nobody here does, aside from Victoria, and she only knows the outlines of things. I don't tell people that shit. They don't need to know. And guess what? Nobody would even care. My sister, maybe. My dad would be pissed over the fact he can't hand his company and name down to me. He gives me these hundred dollar bills and takes away my therapist. He exchanges any chance I have in this goddamned _fucking_ school for convenience. Not like I care about doing well, but I've spent _more_ than enough time wondering at what _point_ doing six lines of coke on a Saturday night became more important than anything else."

Max tries to speak up, but he continues. "And you know what? I don't remember. I don't remember a point where he valued my happiness over money. So I just thought 'fuck it' and now I spend thousands on drugs and my lungs are probably fucked up from smoking and, uh, my head is _also_ fucked up but right now that's out of my control. I'm nineteen. I'm still young, y'know? Why not have a little fun? Hm? What the fuck is so wrong about that?"

"Destroying yourself isn't the best way to have fun."

"Sex isn't 'destroying myself'."

"You never mentioned that. I'm talking about this-" she points vaguely at his arm, "-and regularly doing cocaine...or whatever else. That's not good. You're going to end up in hospital. Seriously. You'll end up a drug addict and wasting away, having to live on life support. And when you're not wearing that massive jacket it's obvious that you're not eating right, either."

"So what? I don't get hungry. That won't kill me."

"Ever heard of 'anorexia', Nathan?"

"I'm not fucking stupid. I do _eat_ , you idiot, I just don't eat as frequently. No time. I have parties to attend and girls to fuck and drugs to take. Fuck spending time in that shitty cafeteria."

 _Nathan is delusional. He doesn't understand what he's doing to himself_ , Max thinks. _How much of this does Victoria know? How much of this does his therapist know? How much of this does his_ father _know?_

"Anyway, that's, uh, me taking you up on your offer, by the way. Now you can forget most of that on your way back and it'll never be discussed again. I'm on a high so I'll say anything." She laughs. "You know what they say, what doesn't kill you leaves you angry, alone, and depressed as _fuck_."

"Amen to that," Max says.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i need to emphasise this especially for this chapter, since a lot of the last parts sound like i'm making self harm romantic and i'm really not: self harm is an awful thing to deal with and i'm not doing anything to promote or glorify it. if you self harm, please seek help from someone. i don't want anyone reading this to have to end up at a point where they relate to the level of depression in this. if anyone needs to talk please don't hesitate to send me an ask on my tumblr (polarise.co.vu/ask), i'm pretty much always available to listen if you need somebody to talk to.
> 
> i love you. thank you for reading this <3


	8. Two Whales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so school has started and my mental state isn't doing so great and i have this all planned out but i'm still hitting writer's block so i'm reeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally sorry about the lack of updates i'm trying i swear

Sunlight gleams through her closed blinds, filtering lines of yellow onto her carpet and brightening up the room. Her alarm hasn't gone off yet, but something wakes her up. It's still too early regardless, and she doesn't have lessons until later.

Rolling over, she picks up her phone and squints at the screen, blinking as the brightness attacks her half-closed eyes.

**_[1 missed call from Unknown]_ **

Max doesn’t ever get phoned, much less from random numbers. Hell, some of her _friends_ don’t even have her number yet. She writes it off as a cold call, some salesman in shiny city headquarters wanting her card details probably.

_**[Incoming call from Unknown]** _

She declines. They’re persistent, she’ll give them that. She gives in and just resorts to texting the number.

_**Max:** Who is this? _

_**Unknown:** you gonna pick up or wht caulfield _

Ah. Nathan. She forgets that he’s still unrecognised to her phone.

_**Unknown:** how long does it take u to add my number _

_**Max:** All of fifteen seconds, apparently. There we go. _

_**Nathan:** anyway _

Max wonders if she’d have been better off not answering. _No, Max, that’s cruel. What if he’s in a situation like last night?_ she thinks. _He’s...I guess he’s my friend now. And friends help friends out, right? I have all the time in the world to help. I’m not going anywhere._

_**Nathan:** wanted to talk 2 u _

_**Nathan:** meet me in 2 whales _

_**Nathan:** like now thx _

_**Max:** Hold on, I’ll get changed. _

_**Nathan:** just cum as u r _

_**Max:** Is it a pyjama date? _

_**Nathan:** it's not a fuckin date of any kind and don't show up in ur pjs either _

_**Max:** Alright, got it. _

She doesn't make an effort to move or get out of bed. In fact, she simply takes her phone from its charging lead and snuggles back under the blankets. Nathan can wait for a little bit. He's probably not even there yet.

The comfort and warmth of her duvet is way too inviting and, right now, is more appealing than coffee and awkward conversation. The sudden vibration of her phone startles her.

**_Nathan:_** _ten bucks says u haven't moved_

**_Max:_** _If you're gonna be snarky and correct about it at least offer more than ten bucks._

**_Max:_** _That's like pocket change for you._

**_Max:_** _You probably use ten dollar bills as tissues._

**_Nathan:_** _it's not me tht has th cash caulfield_

**_Max:_** _You say as you spend hundreds on drugs weekly._

**_Nathan:_** _you could b getting changed rn_

**_Max:_** _Stop picturing me getting changed._

**_Max:_** _Perv. :P_

**_Nathan:_** _well now you've said it good fuckin move_

**_Max:_** _Ew. I'm not sure I want to come to the diner now._

**_Nathan:_** _GOD_

She lets herself laugh as his text outburst, and finds the willpower in her to fling the duvet off her and crawl out of bed.

 

\---

 

 Memories of her and her old strawberry blonde friend come flooding back to Max as she looks up at the diner sign. She recognises the logo, remembers the smell of bacon when a trucker opens the door and it wafts out - and it feels instantly familiar and homely. She hasn't been back for five years but it still reminds her of all the good times her and Chloe spent in there, back when they were thirteen and carefree, not a trouble in the world.

Wondering how Chloe's doing now makes her a little bit upset, but she only has herself to blame. _She_ didn't keep in touch, _she_ didn't text her, _she_ never told Chloe she was coming back to Arcadia Bay, and so she doesn't know why she expects her to somehow pop back into her life as if nothing happened and there were never five years of no contact between them. Seattle was fun, Max has no problems admitting that, but she found new friends and adapted, and when she had new a semi-popular-yet-still-geeky crowd to hang out with, Chloe Price was almost easily forgotten.

She's almost easily forgotten _now_. Max _still_ hasn't remembered to phone or text her. In between consoling the school bully, subtly trying to strike up a friendship with the school bully's almost-sister, and remembering to actually finish her AP English essay, it hasn't exactly crossed her mind.

Max tries to push aside her guilt once she steps into the diner, but it hits her again once she breathes in the scent of coffee and crispy bacon and sees the red leather booths.

It's not hard to spot Nathan - he's practically vibrating in his seat with the force of his leg jiggling - and she makes her way over to the far end of the diner, taking in the familiar retro feel of the diner. The jukebox, fishing "Hall of Fame", even the cake display is still the same as she remembers it. He doesn't look up as she approaches - hell, he doesn't even move, and he jumps when she speaks.

"Is this seat taken?" she smiles, gesturing to the booth chair opposite him. He blinks a couple of times and looks up.

"All yours, Caulfield," he says, without a hint of sarcasm but with a trace of a smile. She nods and slides in, setting her bag down next to her and resting her elbows onto the table casually. He looks straight at her and takes another sip of his coffee, his shoulders still juddering due to his fidgeting. She notices that the glazed look in his eyes has returned, making him look more like his "old" self. 

"So why did you invite me here again?"

"I don't know. A thank you gesture, maybe."

"I'm thanking you for the thank you. I needed a break."

"Don't we all," he mutters into the mug as he takes another swig. He doesn't maintain eye contact for very long and goes from blinking more than twice every five seconds to not blinking at all. He also has a habit of sucking his lips in and sighing heavily. Max questions why she's noticing all these things and quickly writes them off as nothing more than passing observations.

A fair-skinned woman with pinned back blonde hair steps over to their table with a coffee pot and mug. Max isn't sure if she knows her at first, but as soon as she talks she recognises the twang in her voice.

"Well, well, if it isn't Max Caulfield. Returnin' to Arcadia Bay after all this time," Joyce says, filling up the mug and pushing it towards her. "How was Seattle?"

"It was lovely. More...uh, modern than I am, but it was fun," she beams. Joyce laughs.

"You haven't changed a bit. Still as old-school as I remember." She casts a quick glance to Nathan, and looks him up and down before forcing a smile at him. "And you got yourself a boy, too. Good on you."

Nathan starts to speak, but Max hastily talks over him. "No, this isn't a date. I'm still just as much of a loner, just with a different set of friends." She laughs self-consciously and Nathan scowls at her, whilst Joyce waves her hand dismissively.

"Oh, Max, you were never a loner. You had your own style, and Chloe fell in with you so she adapted. You got your own little personality. Don't pass yourself off as a loner, sweetheart." Max smiles genuinely at her words, and it doesn't falter even when Nathan rolls his eyes across the table. "Anyways, Chloe would love to see you again. Don't forget to drop her a text or something, she'd appreciate meetin' up with you again. You wouldn't believe how much she's changed."

"I promise, Joyce. I still have her number. I'll make plans in the next week. I just wanted to get settled into school first."

"Well, good luck telling that to Chloe. She hasn't been doing so well. You might wanna...take some time out to speak to her, y'know?" Max nods. "I won't trouble you two any longer, though, I'm sure you're having fun." She looks at Nathan again, and smiles at the both of them before leaving and returning behind the counter. Nathan looks after her, and then turns to the brunette opposite him.

"Mom of an old friend," Max says.

"I guessed. More concerned that she thought you'd actually date someone like me."

 _What does_ that _mean?_ Max thinks. _He makes it sound like he already somehow knows Joyce. Or maybe even Chloe._ She doesn't have time to question it further, because Nathan moves on.

"So," he starts, "last night. Forget it ever happened."

"What?"

"Just wipe it from your memory. I know you and your big mouth. It'll end up halfway round Blackwell before the end of this week if I don't specifically remind you not to talk."

"I...didn't intend to tell anybody?"

"Good. Because, y'know, not many people...know about..." He makes vague spinning motions with his hands. "Those. Those kinds of issues. Put it this way, I'd rather have a rep as an easy, drugged-up party animal than some batshit schizo."

"I completely get that. I'm not gonna say anything, don't worry."

He leans back and tiredly rubs at his temple. "Vic knows. Hayden has an idea. Taylor and Courtney also have a vague idea. But nobody else needs to fuckin' know, alright?"

Max shoots a pistol motion at him with her fingers. "Got it."

"I'm actually starting to warm to you, Caulfield. That's pretty rare," she looks almost surprised at him, "but you need a serious style redo if you ever want to be popular at Blackwell. I'm just saying it as it is."

"I'm okay, thanks. I don't particularly want to be popular. Or in the Vortex Club or whatever."

"Then why the fuck are you tryna be friends with me? People never even want to talk unless they're after drugs, or a hookup."

 _Oh, Nathan._  "Luckily for you, I'm not after either of those things. Not my kinda stuff."

"What _do_ you want, then, Max?"

Leaning back, she considers his question. One wrong answer and he'd ditch her without second thought, and probably leave them on worse terms than they were before the whole self-harm facade. She knows what he's asking: he wants to know what she's trying to befriend him for, whether it's money, drugs, or sex. She's aware of his current reputation, and she's also aware of how many people try to make friends just to get to one of the three things he can provide.

But she knows that he's also asking why she wants to be friends, and she knows that he doesn't understand her genuine concern for him. With only one companion figure like that around and everyone else bailing once they get what they want, she can see why he feels the need to ask now. _He doesn't want to get attached. Like Victoria says, he gets attached to anything that provides comfort, and he wants to know whether he can allow himself to. Whether I'm going to leave him and pretend we never spoke after I get what he thinks I want._

"Friendship. A friendship where I can trust you, and I know you can trust me. That's all I want from you."

 

\---

 

**_Nathan:_** _max_

**_Nathan:_** _max_

**_Nathan:_** _parking lot at 1_

**_Nathan:_** _b here or b queer u homo_

**_Max:_** _Nathan, WTF? It's midnight. A little later than that._

**_Max:_** _Also lay off on the homophobia for a little bit, it doesn't suit you._

**_Nathan:_** _ur still awake tho so w/e fgt_

**_Max:_** _If we're going to be friends you seriously gotta stop using gross words, even if they are shortened._

**_Nathan:_** _don't b fake deep_

**_Max:_** _So it's 12.30AM and you want me to meet you outside after curfew...can I predict how this is going to go?_

**_Nathan:_** _go on you give it yr best fucking shot_

**_Max:_** _We both get caught._

**_Nathan:_** _nd i pay my dad to take it all off the records_

**_Nathan:_** _problem solved_

**_Max:_** _I'd rather not have to pay people to remove fuckups from my official files, thanks._

**_Nathan:_** _then don't get caught, idiot_

**_Nathan:_** _look just meet me there_

**_Nathan:_** _pls_

**_Max:_** _Can you just tell me what the hell is going on, please?_

**_Nathan:_** _UGH_

**_Nathan:_** _just wanna go 4 a drive_

**_Max:_** _Do I trust you behind the wheel?_

**_Nathan:_** _my driving is safer than my fucking lemme put it tht way_

**_Max:_** _Gross._

**_Nathan:_** _yve clearly never had sex have u_

**_Max:_** _I've never even kissed anyone. Go figure._

**_Nathan:_** _i_ _'d change that if i was remotely attracted 2 u_

**_Nathan:_** _mind you tht's nvr stopped me b4_

**_Nathan:_** _drugs n booze n shit and we're good to fuckin go_

**_Nathan:_** _now come the fuck on let's go for a drive caulfield_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumbling: polarise.co.vu


	9. Until I Had You On The Open Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next couple chapters might take a lil longer because.............multiple choices again!!
> 
> also lookie we have 11 chapters left! there's still a lot of time left to get in some Cool Caulscott Action (but not really cause this is a t-rated fic and it's not going past flirting and ~maybe~ a kiss but hey, at least you can look forward to that)
> 
> and i added fun lil chapter titles

Max has to credit Nathan's driving skills - he focuses on the road and doesn't drive recklessly. _Maybe that's because Daddy has put his foot down on how many new cars Nathan can wreck before he stops getting them replaced._ She thinks it's probably a distraction method. Driving somewhere gives him something to focus on, and not much time to think about anything else. His radio is switched on but unused, with no station or CD playing. In comparison to what he _could_ afford, this car is pretty standard, no frills, just the basics and a dark purple air freshener.

His eyes are pretty bloodshot and his movements aren't as jerky and sudden as usual. He doesn't speak for the first couple of minutes. Neither of them do, and the silence hangs in the air until Max finally breaks it.

"...Why are we driving again?"

Her question almost takes him aback, and he stays quiet. "Uh, because I wanted to? You ever wanted to just drive and clear your head or nah?"

"I don't have a driver's licence yet. I would if I could. I meant more along the lines of, 'why didn't you ask Victoria or someone instead?'."

"Keep questioning everything and I'll start wishing I did." So she shuts up, and the two continue their journey in silence once again. (It can't be considered a journey, as such, because there's no specific location that they're heading to, but there's no word that Max can bring to mind to describe it.)

Arcadia Bay is extraordinarily peaceful at night, with Nathan's car being the only one on their stretch of road, and with the only sounds being the distant hum of faraway cars and the waves lapping at the sand on the beach. It's quiet in the day, but past 10PM it's practically a ghost town. Blackwell Academy is visible from the open car window, little patches of light littered up and down the dormitory building and streetlamps lighting up the little path between the school and the dorms. Further down the street leading away from the school, a row of houses are lit up, with one already sporting an large orange and green blob of light that's recognisable as a pumpkin from not-so-far away. Whoever lives there loves Halloween; Max remembers passing that house every day of October when she was younger and seeing their spooky decorations strung around. Maybe she'll trick or treat there this year.

Past that, the local supermarket's neon sign emits its familiar flashing purple and red hues, and past _that_ , the trail leading into the forest is illuminated by tiny flecks of light. Max breathes in the cool air and catches smoke that makes her wheeze. Nathan quickly rests his hand back on the window frame, letting the rest of it seep out into the sky rather than towards Max.

"Hey, at least you can smoke and not risk a detention for it out here."

"Boy, my Marlboros are fucking _quivering_ in anticipation."

Max giggles, and he looks over at her and cracks a small smile along with her. He told himself not to like her, not to get attached, but he can't help but feel a sense of appreciation and even fondness towards her company.

" _It's puppy love, Nate, don't even go there. You're not her type,_ " Vic had said with a flick of her fringe. " _She's a total hipster with lame photography skills and shitty hair. You're a bro with cash and good drugs. You're opposites._ "

" _And opposites attract,_ " he had shot back.

And she said, " _That's a myth. Just...don't. Don't do that thing where people do one thing for someone and suddenly they love them._ "

And he had thought about it. He remembered her arm around him while he sat curled up on the floor, searing pains ripping through his insides, a thumping migraine intensifying the voices pounding in his head, and he remembered the harsh tone of her voice when she gave him the choice to send her away and pretend she never had anything to do with him. He remembered her leaning on his shoulder while they sat on the floor of his room, while his cuts bled onto her hoodie.

And he said, " _I can't help it._ "

 

\---

 

_**[4 missed calls from Warren]** _

_**Warren:** Max? _

_**Warren:** I feel like I haven't seen you in years. Where'd you go? _

_**Warren:** Still hanging out with that dick Nathan? _

_**Warren:** Don't ignore this if you can help it. Principal Wells told me to pass on a message. _

 

\---

 

His varsity jacket sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, and Max can see the clear reminders of the previous night. There was, however, one addition, and that was a plaster over the smallest part of his wrist. His forearm is thinner than hers, and his wrist bone sticks out. It's obvious to her that he isn't eating well either. Come to think of it, she's never even seen him set foot in the cafeteria.

Still, she watches as he stares absentmindedly out of the window, the wind pushing past his hair and ruffling the messy front of his quiff up. He turns the steering wheel once to head up the mountainside route, and then looks back outside. Not wanting to miss her opportunity, she pulls out her camera and positions the shot, snapping it once she's happy with the angle. Surprisingly, he doesn't flinch when the flash goes off or when the loud 'click' sounds, and only turns to her once the film has rolled out of it.

"Fuck me, guess I'm the next of Max Caulfield's Polaroid victims," he says lightheartedly, glancing at the picture and then Max smiling softly down at it before pushing it back into her bag along with the camera.

"Guess you are."

"Is this how it feels when girls with slut-length skirts get pictures taken of them in public?"

"It'll teach _you_ not to do it."

"The difference is that I don't mind having my photo taken by you." He doesn't even have to look at her to see her smug smile. "Lemme reword that before you start thinking shit. I'm giving you permission to take and keep that, and I know you're only taking it for your edgy aesthetic purposes."

"Maybe I'm going to post it to my secret 'Hot Dudes of Blackwell' Instagram."

"Do that and I'll make sure you can't walk for a week." She throws him another grin. "Fuck off. I'm so far out of your league that we're not even playing the same fucking sport. I'm in the NBA and you're selling mufflers in a shitty little shack next to the stadium."

She giggles again. "You're the one with bondage pictures on your wall, Prescott, so don't pretend you're even _remotely_ embarrassed by that comment. And also, you're like...experienced."

"Experienced? Is that the best way you could've put it?"

"Isn't there a Vortex Club rule where new members have to have sex with the alpha of the club, i.e. you?"

"That's some bullshit rumour to scare people away from us. I mean, I'm not opposed to the idea, but there's so many gays running round that we'd have to find a workaround for letting them in."

She sighs inwardly at the hint of homophobia in his sentence but chooses not to make a big deal out of it. She'd rather leave that issue for another day. Instead, she checks her phone for the time and sees the missed calls and messages from Warren. Inconspicuously unlocking her phone, she types out a quick message.

**_Max:_** _Hey, sorry, wasn't ignoring you, just been out for a while. What's up?_

**_Warren:_** _"Out", my ass, you're totally with Nathan._

**_Max:_** _True, but let's not get bitter about it. What did Wells want?_

**_Warren:_** _Are me and my plans to hang with you now less important than both Prescott and the principal?_

**_Max:_** _Please don't be awkward about this. I'll make it up to you._

**_Warren:_** _Damn right you will._

**_Warren:_** _The principal told me that he'd, I quote, "received an anonymous tip for your records that won't go unnoticed". Something to do with helping Nathan._

**_Max:_** _Weird. I haven't told_

**_Max:_** _Shit, ignore that. Tried to delete it but pressed send._

**_Warren:_** _Ok, well, text me when you get the time. I wanna actually hang out with you in person sometime, you know._

**_Max:_** _I will, I promise. We're gonna hang and nerd out so hard._

**_Warren:_** _G o o d._

**_Warren:_** _Have fun wherever you're at, anyways._

She smiles and pockets her phone, noting the numbers glaring out at her reading '2AM'. She didn't think it was _that_ late, but hey, who cares, there's nothing to be back for anyway. Evidently there's nothing for Nathan to go back for either, because he's made no attempt to go in the general direction of the school yet. She seems to remember him mentioning going to a bar earlier, which would explain why he sounded happier in his texts convincing her to join him on his drive, but not why he seems withdrawn and almost cynical about everything. The bloodshot eyes are a slight giveaway, though, and she hopes the cops don't pull them over for a random "why are you driving at this hour" spot check. _Although I guess the Prescotts pretty much own the cops, so they 'won't care' that Nathan's driving while high,_ she thinks.

A light flashes in the rearview mirror, surprising Max. Nathan checks his side repeatedly, letting his eyes flicker over to the mirror every couple of seconds.

"What's up?" she asks.

"Some idiot behind me flashing me," he mutters, checking outside the window again. Just before she can relax back into her seat, he swerves the car to one side suddenly, rocking Max across the middle. She grabs the handle on the door quickly and pushes herself back.

"Nathan, what the fuck? We're near cliff edges and you decide to _swerve_?"

"Hey, hey, at least I can fuckin' drive." The car behind them flashes its lights again. "Shit. Okay. Gimme a plan here so I can lose this dick."

Max looks at him. _Why is he asking_ me _to help? I don't even know what's going on!_

"Just give me some location, Max, literally anywhere. Quick," he says, with slightly more desperation in his voice than last time. She looks at the road ahead, and sees the familiar junction approaching.

_Where do I tell him to go?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o to parks and rec for that "out of my league" quote it felt appropriate (hey, our movies exist in the lis world so maybe nathan's watched it)


	10. The Prescott Estate (Go to Nathan's house)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT i was ill and i couldn't find the motivation to write
> 
> but i really wanted to get these out soon so i can focus on the last parts because hoo boy are they gonna be a bitch to write
> 
> love you guys <3333
> 
> (the original title for this chapter was going to be "the suicide room" because i planned to have it turn a little darker but i couldn't do that for Plot Reasons and my heart leaned towards letting them be buds so)
> 
> (and hey, here's a plan of what i imagined nathan's home room is like! http://www.homestyler.com/designprofile/75b7b37a-4e21-491f-8b46-8a023641916d please use the "explore" option to see it in 3d and mess around, because i put so many little details in hehe)

"Don't stop. Keep driving," Max says quickly.

"To where?"

"Um..." _Think, Max! Where would he know the way to?_ "Yours."

He gives her a quick glance before taking the right turn. "Smooth. Invite yourself round when you know I can't turn you down."

"I'm not flirting, Nathan. I don't know who the hell that is behind us and I don't want to find out. I just thought of someplace you'll know."

He grunts in response, and speeds up a little. A flash of lights in the mirror.

Maybe it wasn't such a good decision to go to Nathan's. There's a good chance the follower knows where he lives anyway, and even if they don't, they'd find out soon enough. She doesn't want to put Nathan in any more danger than he might already be in and she knows he won't be happy if she does.

The person following could be perfectly innocent, but they could also...not be, and Max doesn't want to take that chance. Nathan keeps his eyes focused on the road, and Max shrinks down in her seat. Neither of them say a word until they eventually arrive at the Prescott estate. It's somewhat secluded, with a long, twisting road leading to its isolated location at the top of the hill and the house being surrounded by pine trees. To Max's surprise, it's not a mansion, and instead a pretty ordinary-looking house. A little bigger than most of the ones in the main town, but still not what she expected from the multi-millionaire family.

The car behind them slows as Nathan pulls up in front of the garage.

"Who-" Max begins to say.

"Just wait," he hisses, watching the mirror. The car stops, then almost instantly reverses and does a three-point turn to head back down the road. She relaxes as Nathan steps out of the car, and then follows suit.

It's not as dark out as she thought - the tinted windows probably didn't help - and the sky is pretty clear for the start of October. Soon enough the skies will become cloudy and mist will cover the town, and winds will pick up, but Max doesn't know this yet.

 

\---

 

Nathan doesn't stop to greet his parents when he steps inside, and heads straight up the stairs to his right. Max hears footsteps from the hallway and hastily follows.

His room is the furthest from the stairs, and the door sports a faded skull sticker. Inside it's very similar to his Blackwell dorm, except notably larger and with some shelves looking barren due to the DVD collection being in his current main residence. It's nothing special - a double bed in the corner, two large windows across the same wall looking out over the cliff, a black bookshelf, a desk with a Mac and laptop, a wardrobe, random extras across the room - but everything looks so expensive that she just doesn't want to touch it in fear of ruining something. There are some bare spaces on the walls where posters have been taken down and moved, and Max notices when he switches the light on that the area of wall nearest his pillow has dark patches and cracked plaster.

He throws his keys onto his unmade bed and hastily shifts some open magazines underneath it.

"Dude, just use the internet."

"Don't make me regret bringing you here."

She sets her bag next to the leather sofa and moves an empty glass from the arm to the desk before sitting down. "Everything is so...you, I guess. Dark and expensive."

"That's me." He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of his door before stepping over the back of the sofa and letting himself fall onto it, making Max lift a little into the air under his weight (which she guesses is less than hers. She expected to bounce higher). "So...that guy following us. I know who it was, I mean, I'm not gonna pretend I don't, I just don't want to tell you because you _will_ freak the fuck out. Especially if you know the reason why."

"Please tell me so I can stop fearing for my safety."

"No, you're safe," he replies, but his voice trails off at the end. "You are now, at least."

He rubs his forehead gently and sighs, moving his hand upwards to run it through his hair. Whatever product he uses doesn't hold too well and some loose strands fall down in front of his eyes. He brushes them aside and looks at her.  She looks at him expectantly. He makes a vague irritated growling sound in response.

"Saying this is so fucking hard because I know exactly what your reaction's gonna be."

"As long as you haven't killed someone, it's fine."

He laughs a little too loudly, and it sounds a little too forced. "You know Jefferson. You're in his class. You know he likes to take photos."

"Uh...yes?" she says slowly.

"My family has a deal with him. And I can't say what because knowing you and your big mouth it'll end up with the police. Not like it'd matter, but...whatever. You don't need to know what it is. All I can say is that there was a reason why he was following us."

"That was Mr. Jefferson?" Her eyes widen slightly in shock. "Wh-"

"I can't say any more."

"Nathan, why is our teacher _stalking_ you?"

"He's not _stalking_ , alright, I already said it was family business. And what goes on with the Prescotts stays with the Prescotts, right?" He pushes the sleeves of his white cardigan up to his elbows, and Max spots two new red lines. It's an improvement compared to the tens she noticed last time he had his sleeves up.

"Only two," she mumbles.

"What?"

"What?"

"You just said something 'two'."

"Oh. Did I say that out loud?"

"Yes...?"

"I didn't mean to."

"No shit. What are you thinking about?"

"Honestly?" She pauses. "That I'm proud of you for only having two new scars. "

"Why the fuck are you _proud_? You couldn't sound more like a white mom if you tried."

"Because it's only two. It's a pretty significant improvement." She smiles. "Hey, would you rather me get annoyed?"

"No," he says, turning his face away, and rolling his eyes when he looks at her again. "Listen, I-"

" _Nathan!_ "

The voice is low and rings through the walls very clearly, and it's about what Max expected in terms of Nathan's father's voice. Not that she'd ever given longer than two minutes of thought towards meeting his parents, of course. She just had to think about what she'd say to the owner of pretty much the entirety of Arcadia Bay, given that she was in an SUV headed towards his house with his son.

Nathan sighs. "What?" Max almost has to cover her ears.

" _You alone?_ "

"No?"

Thumping of footsteps. " _I'm coming up. We need to talk._ "

"Fuckin' great," Nathan says sarcastically, resting his arm on the back of the sofa, ready to speak to his dad. _Why is this stressing me out so much?_ Max thinks. _I haven't done anything wrong. I don't have a reason for Mr. Prescott to be mad at me or anything._

" _I'm not fucking around, son, Victoria can't be round here every-_ " Max doesn't look at him straight away, but the awkward pause doesn't make it any easier and she's forced to at least glance over. His dad...isn't much taller than Nathan, and the unfortunate lighting in his room casts his noticeably greying hair as partially ginger. He has a clear square jaw and looks like the kind of smug asshole that Nathan has already painted him as. "Ah. Not Victoria. You are...?"

"Oh, uh, Max. Maxine Caulfield. People just call me Max." _Max, you're babbling. Shut up. Let him do all the talking._ He then looks to Nathan, as if waiting for an explanation.

"A friend from school. Aren't you so fuckin' pleased that I've made buddies?" he says, giving Max a brief 'don't say a word' look before turning back to his dad.

"Mmm. And will _Maxine_ -" she cringes. "-be staying the night?"

"Probably not. Doesn't concern you, though, Dad."

"Oh, but it does. You should know by now that I aim to accommodate all of your...friends." His gaze shifts to her, making her feel instantly uneasy. "Our fridge is always open, Max. Take whatever you like."

She nods in thanks. "I appreciate it." She doesn't like his smile as he says it. It's like he's leering at her, like he knows that she knows something. She doesn't, and the whole situation makes her very uncomfortable.

"Can you go now, Dad?" Nathan says quickly.

"Why? Did I interrupt something?"

" _Fuck_ no. Conversation, maybe."

 "Alright. I'll be out. Just remember what we talked about-"

"Yeah, okay, I get it. _Bye_ , Dad." _Nathan acting like a typical teenager towards his dad is almost kind of endearing._ Mr. Prescott nods and leaves, closing the door most of the way as he does so.

"So what did you talk about?"

"What every asshole dad has to remind his son of once he starts bringing girls home." Max laughs softly. "He has no clue. I was out getting laid at like, fourteen, and he seriously thinks that it's only just started now I'm in the Vortex Club."

"I almost feel bad thinking about the possibility that your dad has walked in on you at some point. But yikes, fourteen?"

"You heard me."

"You're not even out of puberty at fourteen."

"You think I don't know that? She was hot, she sent tit pics and all that and I was completely down for doing her at this one ninth-grade party."

"And you did."

He relaxes back into the seat and lifts one leg up to rest on the seat while the other foot remains on the floor. "Naturally. Wasn't the best sex ever, but pretty fuckin' sweet."

"Ew. I don't want to know who the best was."

"Victoria."

Max double-takes. "Well, _that_ was out of left field. _Victoria?_ I thought you guys were just-"

"Just friends? We are. It was too weird dating because we're like bro 'n sister, even she'll tell you that. But I'm not gonna lie, she's pretty hot and I'm not going to pretend that one time we banged wasn't the best night of my life."

"Does she know that?"

"I've probably told her. She knows she's good at it so it probably wasn't the shocker you're thinking it was." He stops. "Uh, no pun intended."

It takes Max a few seconds to reread what he said in her mind. Then she shakes her head and laughs. "Nathan, that's _nasty_. Stop making bad sex jokes. This conversation was already awkward enough."

 And he actually smiles and laughs back in response, and it's not forced or sarcastic. It's just natural, relaxed laughter that's apparently pretty contagious, because Max starts laughing at his laughing rather than the joke itself. It's not what she expected her night to be like - especially not after narrowly avoiding possibly Mr. Jefferson as a potential stalker - but she's glad it turned out okay.

 

\---

 

Nathan drops her back off at the dorms later, and Max isn't sure whether it's technically really late or early. Either way, Principal Wells ambushes them both as they try to sneak past his door to head into the dorms.

"Mr. Prescott, Miss Caulfield, you both know you're not allowed out after curfew under any circumstances," he says quietly, his words half-slurring.

"Went back home. My dad'll back us up. Phone him. I'm going back, I just wanted to get something from my room first," Nathan says nonchalantly.

Principal Wells scowls at them both before dismissively waving his hand towards the dorms. "Go on, then, but don't let me catch you out again. Don't make this a habit."

"We won't," Max says, and suddenly her sleeve is yanked and she's being led by Nathan before she has a chance to say a proper goodnight. Not particularly violently or roughly, it just takes her by surprise and leaves the principal watching them like a hawk as they walk away. She straightens herself out and falls into step with Nathan as they head through the entrance doors. "So would he actually phone your dad?"

"No fucking way, dude. That alcoholic jackass doesn't actually care about anyone being out after curfew. Just the mention of my father is enough to remind him that pissing him off could get the whole school's funding cut off in a day," he says, almost proudly. 

 Max messes with her bag. "Mmm."

"And my dad doesn't care if we're out either. Obviously I'm not going to bed yet, because fuck that, I'm headed to a bar or some shit. You're more than welcome to come. I actually don't mind you any more. I'll get Vic to lend you some expensive threads if you do want to come, though. She likes you too."

More messing. She feels for her camera. "Mmm. I would but it's not my scene, sorry. And I couldn't fit into Victoria's clothes. What is she, size 0?"

"I don't fuckin' know. I might've slept with her but I don't obsessively read the labels on her clothes."

She holds the Polaroid in her hands. "...Fair enough. Hey, stop walking so fast."

"Why?" he questions, slowing down anyway. He sees her flipping the flash of the camera up. "Oh, fuck no. Don't drag me into your 'Everyday Hero' bullshit entry."

"This isn't my entry, don't worry. I just like documenting moments. Another hipster picture to put on my wall," she says, stopping to raise her camera and tugging on his sleeve to stop him. She tries to ignore his hand accidentally-on-purpose brushing past hers as she does so. "Try to stand right behind me so I can get you in the frame. And tell me when you're ready, too."

Behind her, he crouches slightly to match her height and looks around the side of her head, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out for lack of a better pose. His hand finds its way to her hip involuntarily as he steadies himself, and his expression turns more into an open-mouthed smile when she doesn't move away and instead leans back into him.

 She takes his hand as a sign that she's good to shoot and she presses the trigger button down as best she can with the awkward angle. The camera flashes and whirrs into action, spitting out a hand-sized square, and she takes it from the slot and shakes it (which she's tried to get out of the habit of doing - she knows it can damage the photos but it's a knee-jerk reaction now). Nathan puts his tongue back in his mouth and leans further over her shoulder to peer at the picture.

"Do you know how Polaroids work? It hasn't developed yet. I'll show you tomorrow," she says, laughing softly. He grunts, and then lightly pushes on her waist to get her moving again. She puts her arm around him, too, to make the gesture seem less awkward as they start walking again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lap up the lil bit of photo fluffiness because that's about as romantic as it's gonna get until the very very end of the whole thing lmao it's only going downhill from here


	11. Distrust (Pull over)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT i was ill and i couldn't find the motivation to write
> 
> but i really wanted to get these out soon so i can focus on the last parts because hoo boy are they gonna be a bitch to write
> 
> love you guys <3333

"Just stop the car, Nathan, please," Max says.

"Good idea, let's just stop in the middle of the road."

"I'm serious. Head towards that lay-by and let them pass."

Nathan reluctantly steers towards the gap at the side of the road and puts his foot on the brake, pulling them to a stop. Max leans back as far as she can, not wanting the person following to recognise her. The silver car pulls up alongside them, stopping as close to Nathan's side as possible. Their windows are mirrored, so Max can't see who the driver is, which panics her even more.

A buzz rings out, sounding like it's smothered by something, and Max's eyes instantly flicker to Nathan's phone resting underneath the radio. But it isn't lit up, nor does it move when the same buzz sounds again. He messes in his jacket pocket and pulls out another phone, no less expensive than the premium iPhone 6 that he already has in the tiny compartment, and unlocks it to type out a message and to switch off the buzzing. The car remains close to the door.

"Please tell me what's going on," Max mutters.

"I can't," he says, and quietly moves a hand inside his jacket to set a pistol on his lap. If there was one thing that could've scared her even more, that was it, but he shows no signs of putting it back and handles it too casually for it to be a deadly weapon. He types out something else with visibly shaky hands while it rests on his knees.

"Nathan, that's a _gun_ , _put the gun away_ ," she says frantically, glancing at the door lock to check any means of escape. Nope. It's locked. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Just shut up. Shut up and stay quiet. I'm trying to help you here." _What the fuck kind of 'help' involves a pistol and some random stalker?_

She tries to stay calm. Deep down, she kind of knows that Nathan is probably the most well-equipped to protect her out of anyone at Blackwell, but it's more a matter of whether he _would_ than whether he _could_. They've been on good terms for maybe two weeks, tops, and she doesn't really think either of them are in a position to defend the other to the death. Victoria and Nathan, maybe, but not her and Nathan.

A door slam. An "oh, fuck" from Nathan. Then the sudden unsuccessful yank of the door handle from the outside, and more typing. The only sounds after are that of Max's heavy breathing and the revving of the engine, and the quietness doesn't last for longer than five minutes, but to her it feels like five hours.

The figure moves past the window and windscreen to return to their car. Max catches a black jacket. Black hair. Even though it's dark, the shape of them looks oddly familiar.

"So now we have Mr. Jefferson for a stalker," she says half-jokingly, in an attempt to mask her fear.

"Shut _up_ ," Nathan growls.

The second phone is quickly pushed back into his pocket while the gun remains out - at least, until the silver car slowly pulls away and U-turns back down the road they just came from. Nathan lets out a massive sigh and pushes his hands back over his face.

"So what was that?" Max says bitterly. "Thanks for explaining properly, by the way. Not that I was scared to death or anything."

"God, you're so fucking annoying when you want something." He pockets the pistol again without any care taken to avoid touching the trigger. "I bought you out here to tell you something important, but since you've just had a meltdown over seeing a tiny little gun, I probably shouldn't say anything else." Checking the mirror, he pulls out again without waiting on an answer.

"You can tell me, but Christ, you just threatened to use a gun while some stranger- some Mark Jefferson lookalike, stalks us for half a mile and tries to get into the car. And you don't find that weird. At all. What's going on?"

"Pulling a gun _out_ does not constitute 'threatening to use one', _princess_. I'm not saying shit now that you're getting pissy and demanding things."

"Just _tell me_."

"No. Stop asking questions. Just stop. We're going back. Or, actually, _you're_ going back and I'm headed out to a bar or something. It's clearly way past your bed time," he says sarcastically.

 "So now you're annoyed at me because _I'm_ annoyed that you pulled out a gun?"

"You should be fucking thankful. If something else had happened I would've saved your goddamn life."

Max sits back in her seat and sighs. There's no way to win against him when he's pissed off. The 'saving her life' comment confuses her. _What does he mean? Was I in danger? Who was the person in the car?_

"Okay. I'm thankful. I'm not gonna pretend I wasn't scared. Just please tell me who the person was."

"No."

"Nathan, please."

"No."

"Why?"

"On principle. If you're going to freak out at the gun you would fucking _murder_ me if I told you the full story."

The two spend the rest of the drive in silence. Somehow the trees don't look the same, nor does the moonlit town have the same appeal as it did on the way there.

 

\---

 

 

Nathan drops her back off at the dorms later, and Max isn't sure whether it's technically really late or early. Either way, Principal Wells ambushes them both as they try to sneak past his door to head into the dorms.

"Mr. Prescott, Miss Caulfield, you both know you're not allowed out after curfew under any circumstances," he says quietly, his words half-slurring.

"Went back home. My dad'll back us up. Phone him," Nathan lies. "I'm going back, I just wanted to get something from my room first."

Principal Wells scowls at them both before dismissively waving his hand towards the dorms. "Go on, then, but don't let me catch you out again. Don't make this a habit."

"We won't," Max says, and suddenly her sleeve is yanked and she's being led by Nathan before she has a chance to say a proper goodnight. Not particularly violently or roughly, it just takes her by surprise and leaves the principal watching them like a hawk as they walk away. She straightens herself out and falls into step with Nathan as they head through the entrance doors. "So would he actually phone your dad?"

"No fucking way. That alcoholic jackass doesn't actually care about anyone being out after curfew. Just the mention of my father is enough to remind him that pissing him off could get the whole school's funding cut off in a day," he says, almost proudly. 

 "Mmm."

"And my dad doesn't care if we're out either. Obviously I'm not going to bed yet, because fuck that, I'm headed to a bar or some shit."

"Obviously the events of the drive were so hard to handle that you need to get wasted to shut them out," Max says bitterly, a little too loudly.

He looks at her disgustedly. "Are you _fucking serious?_ You were the one freaking out over a little pistol," he scoffs. "And no, the only reason I need to get wasted is so I can forget that I ever wanted to befriend you in the first place."

 _Ouch. That hurt._  

Neither of them speak once they enter the dorms, with the girl in grey headed up the right set of stairs, and the boy in red headed to the left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things i hate: having to write one of my otps hating each other


	12. Arcadia Cliffs (Go to the lighthouse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT i was ill and i couldn't find the motivation to write
> 
> but i really wanted to get these out soon so i can focus on the last parts because hoo boy are they gonna be a bitch to write
> 
> love you guys <3333

Max points at the white beacon through the windscreen. "The lighthouse. Head there."

Nathan wordlessly turns left and speeds up slightly. She notices the silver car follow them and whoever it is increases their speed too.

Max's hands are trembling slightly, and by glancing over she can see that Nathan is getting more and more anxious. His knee is jiggling and she keeps seeing his eyes dart from side to side. The route to the cliffs is long and twisty, and lined by tall pine trees that loom over them light giants. As if Max didn't already feel trapped enough.

The truck rumbles and clunks along the road, and Max feels herself being thrown to each side whenever it goes around a bend. As they near the bottom of the pathway, the turns get more and more violent when Nathan speeds up, and then he eventually comes to a rough stop that sends dust clouds up from either side of the car. She watches, confused, as he unlocks the doors and undoes his seatbelt.

"Wait, what's going on?" she asks, reaching for the plug of hers.

"What's the point in staying in here? M- _the person_ wasn't too far behind. Let's just get away from them," he says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He removes the keys from the ignition and clambers out of his door, leaving Max in a rush to do the same. The car starts to turn up into the tiny parking lot area as the car locks again, and Nathan hits her shoulder to make her follow him up the path.

The forest route is serene and peaceful in the day, with maybe the only thing you'd be concerned about being the squirrels and whether they held malicious intent to steal whatever food you had on you. At night, the area quickly gains a whole new atmosphere - every tree trunk looks like a figure lurking in the shadows, every bird call sounds like a warning to them, every rustle of leaves makes Max flinch in fear, and every soft scrape of dirt reminds her that they may have possibly made the worst decision of their short lives.

The trees start to become more sparse and the pathway clears out as they approach the top of the cliff, the only light in the area streaming from stubby lamps littered around the entrance to the clearing. _This, thinking about it, was probably also a bad decision. There's nowhere to go but back towards the person,_ Max thinks, stopping to look for any possible exit that isn't a mile-high fall.

She feels a pressure on her wrist, and is tugged towards the old electrical works shack to the right of the area by Nathan. She blindly steps over stones and a small disused fire pit, and comes to a stop behind the white room.

"What are we going to do if they find us?" Max whispers.

"Shhh. Just stay quiet," Nathan replies. Soft footsteps start to pad around them, and Max fights the urge to peer around the side to see who it is. Not that she'd be able to anyway, because it's darker than Nathan's room out and she couldn't even see the ground in front of her. She makes eye contact with Nathan, who's already looking at her, and then focuses on a pebble at her feet to distract her from wanting to look.

The footsteps are slow and the sound of them fills Max with dread as they tread around the lighthouse, drawing ever nearer to their hiding spot. She tries not to let her breathing hitch or deepen so that she doesn't give them away, and her leg starts to cramp from being in an awkward position for so long but she doesn't dare to move it in fear of accidentally kicking the wall or a rock or something that would create enough noise to highlight to the stalker where they are.

She takes an unusually shallow breath, and wrinkles her nose. _Oh, shit. Not now._ "Nathan."

"Shh."

"I need to sneeze."

"Don't fucking do it. Hold your breath," he hisses, pinching his own nose afterwards to gesture what she should do.

She takes in as much air as possible without making an obvious gasping noise and lets the nothingness fill up her throat. Finally the footsteps start to fade as she runs out of air, and she quietly breathes out whilst desperately scanning the trees for the figure. She spots someone walking, and the small lamps illuminate their back as they walk away - she sees a white shirt, blue jeans, and possibly brown hair, although that would have just been the lighting. Dare she even entertain the thought that it was her photography teacher for even a second? She does, but with a massive sense of regret.

"Nathan, that honest-to-God looked like Jefferson."

"Ha."

"I'm serious."

"I know you are. You're also fucking obsessed with that guy," he says, in less of a hushed tone than before. They both adjust their standing positions.

"I mean, if that was him, I'm not sure I want to be anymore."

"So you admit, you _are_ obsessed with him?" Nathan smirks at her, and to Max it is definitely, one-hundred percent _not_ the hottest thing she's seen him do thus far and she will _not_ let herself become mildly attracted to the way his lips arch up and his eyes adopt a flirtatious glint. She will _not_   become infatuated with Nathan Prescott and she will _most certainly_ resist any desire to engage in physical contact with him.

He seems to notice her pause to inwardly think, and waves a hand in front of her face. "Caulfield. You're spacing out. You finally cave and get high before we came out or something?" When she shakes her head and looks at him in response, the smirk (or lopsided smile, now; when she's focusing on all of his face it's more of a subtle show of compassion) returns briefly before he nudges her shoulder and starts to head back towards the path. 

 

\---

 

Nathan drops her back off at the dorms later, and Max isn't sure whether it's technically really late or early. Either way, Principal Wells ambushes them both as they try to sneak past his door to head into the dorms.

"Mr. Prescott, Miss Caulfield, you both know you're not allowed out after curfew under any circumstances," he says quietly, his words half-slurring.

"Went back home. My dad'll back us up. Phone him," Nathan says hastily. _He'd be a better liar if his face wasn't constantly giving off the 'this is blatant bullshit and I hate everything' vibe_. "I'm going back, I just wanted to get something from my room first."

Principal Wells scowls at them both before dismissively waving his hand towards the dorms. "Go on, then, but don't let me catch you out again. Don't make this a habit."

"We won't," Max says, and suddenly her sleeve is yanked and she's being led by Nathan before she has a chance to say a proper goodnight. Not particularly violently or roughly, it just takes her by surprise and leaves the principal watching them like a hawk as they walk away. She straightens herself out and falls into step with Nathan as they head through the entrance doors. "So would he actually phone your dad?"

"No fucking way, dude. That alcoholic jackass doesn't actually care about anyone being out after curfew. Just the mention of my father is enough to remind him that pissing him off could get the whole school's funding cut off in a day," he says, almost proudly. 

 Max messes with her bag. "Mmm."

"And my dad doesn't care if we're out either. Obviously I'm not going to bed yet, because fuck that, I'm headed to a bar or some shit. You're more than welcome to come. I actually don't mind you any more. I'll get Vic to lend you some expensive threads if you do want to come, though. She likes you too."

More messing. She feels for her camera. "Mmm. I would but it's not my scene, sorry. And I couldn't fit into Victoria's clothes. What is she, size 0?"

"I don't fuckin' know. I might've slept with her but I don't obsessively read the labels on her clothes."

She holds the Polaroid in her hands. "...Well, I didn't know you'd had sex with her but fair enough. Hey, stop walking so fast."

"Why?" he questions, slowing down anyway. He sees her flipping the flash of the camera up. "Oh, fuck no. Don't drag me into your 'Everyday Hero' bullshit entry."

"This isn't my entry, don't worry. I just like documenting moments. Another hipster picture to put on my wall," she says, stopping to raise her camera and tugging on his sleeve to stop him. She tries to ignore his hand accidentally-on-purpose brushing past hers as she does so. "Try to stand right behind me so I can get you in the frame. And tell me when you're ready, too."

Behind her, he crouches slightly to match her height and looks around the side of her head, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out for lack of a better pose. His hand finds its way to her hip involuntarily as he steadies himself, and his expression turns more into an open-mouthed smile when she doesn't move away and instead leans back into him.

 She takes his hand as a sign that she's good to shoot and she presses the trigger button down as best she can with the awkward angle. The camera flashes and whirrs into action, spitting out a hand-sized square, and she takes it from the slot and shakes it (which she's tried to get out of the habit of doing - she knows it can damage the photos but it's a knee-jerk reaction now). Nathan puts his tongue back in his mouth and leans further over her shoulder to peer at the picture.

"Do you know how Polaroids work? It hasn't developed yet. I'll show you tomorrow," she says, laughing softly. He grunts, and then lightly pushes on her waist to get her moving again. She puts her arm around him, too, to make the gesture seem less awkward as they start walking again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LISTEN I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF WITH THE SMIRK THING............i'm writing about max denying her feelings in order to put across how much i want them to do the romance thing but alas we don't all get what we want
> 
> since most people have probably read all three and picked their favourite i'll put this here: there are going to be 20 chapters to fit with the title of the story, and an extra bonus chapter titled "the 21st question" (so i'll let you guys wonder what that could be), and i planned to have the next two single-paced with the last five all being choice-based (which i'm going to start writing soon so that i don't leave months between updates for the ending)
> 
> but the ending will be brutal no matter what so here's my official "prepare yourself" warning
> 
> love you!!!!!!!!!!! <333


	13. hey this isn't a chapter but pls read it's not bad

so. uh.

two months.

sorry.

this isn't a chapter either, so i guess i should apologise for that, too. my old laptop's hard drive destroyed itself which meant all my files were lost, and on top of that i've been back at school and doing exams and haven't had a lot of motivation to finish it.

if anyone's still interested in this, i probably will, although it won't be as long as i intended it to be before, and will have fewer endings, since from this point on it was going to be the buildup to the multiple choice endings (which i would've had to write all at once). i don't particularly want to leave this unfinished, even if i'm not as invested in lis as before. i can't have a story without an ending!

so yeah. comment or [send me a tumblr ask](polarise.co.vu) or something if you still want to see how this ends and i'll get around to doing it a lot sooner. this was just my apology for being a lazy shitass nerd tbh.

toodles!


	14. The Real Chapter 13 In Disguise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [guess who's back, back, back, back again]
> 
> i already had the first half of this written so i decided fuck it!!! let's at least give something to you guys who've been so supportive while i dealt with hard drives and exams
> 
> i'll take the notice chapter down as soon as i screenshot the comments because y'all are lovely and encouraging and i love you all <3
> 
> i think i'm gonna try and keep this fic the same length as intended too? even if it means furiously churning out a chapter a night i am DETERMINED to finish it + i have a really cheesy bonus chapter planned eheh
> 
> i'll change the chapter name too i promise

  **IF YOU CHOSE "PULL OVER/DISTRUST"**  

 

 

 

Max has never had a more restless night. Warren hasn't messaged her in a while (and speaking of, she hasn't seen him around much, either), Victoria hasn't even spoken to her, she's neglected to contact Chloe, and now Nathan is annoyed. How many more times can she mess up her relationships? This is so far from how she wanted to start off her year at Blackwell.

_It could be worse,_  she thinks.  _I could have no friends and be a loser in the corner by myself. Although having popular people completely ignore me is just as shitty._

Befriending Nathan Prescott is also so,  _so_  far from how she wanted to start her year, too, and maybe she'd consider herself in it for the long haul if he wasn't mad at her.  _But, y'know, maybe he shouldn't have pulled out a gun with no explanation._

Her final 9AM alarm buzzes, and she gently shuts it off before rubbing her eyes and swinging her legs over the side of the bed to stand. 

 There are no unread texts, no missed calls begging for her attention on her screen.

Just as she expected.

 

 

**IF YOU CHOSE "GO TO NATHAN'S HOUSE/THE PRESCOTT ESTATE"**

 

Her phone vibrates loudly on her nightstand, rattling through the wood and making her flinch as she stood.

**[1 new message from Nathan]**

_**Nathan:** my dad just text me_

_**Max:** And...?_

_**Nathan:** hes not convinced tht were not dating_

_**Nathan:** gave me the whole 'i was fine with vic but u cant keep bringin girls home' speech_

_**Max:** Ha._

_**Max:** Well._

_**Nathan:** jus thought u mite wanna know_

Wonderful. As if the whole of Blackwell Academy wasn't already thinking it, now Mr. Prescott was too. Were a guy and a girl not allowed to hang out together without being considered at the very least 'friends with benefits'? Fuck no. She was not fucking _Nathan Prescott_ , no way, no how.

Although dating him is a different story. Probably. She'd thought about it more than a few times at this point.

_**Nathan:** also the jefferson thing_

_**Nathan:** ill tell you whats up if you promise not to snitch_

_**Nathan:** like the little fuckin snitch you probably are deep down_

Max freezes. She feels like she may have ratted Nathan out for something before, but she can't quite place where. If there was ever a time where she felt like the 'alternate timelines' theory existed, it was now. A chill runs down her spine.

_**Nathan:** nah jk_

_**Nathan:** but seriously_

_**Nathan:** promise me you wont go running your mouth and i can tell you_

_**Max:** Alright, sure._

_**Max:** But if it's something really illegal, or you or someone else is in danger, then I can't promise I won't mention it to anyone._

_**Nathan:** caulfield why u gotta be like this_

_**Max:** I didn't say I would. Just that if anyone gets hurt I'm gonna have to say something._

_**Nathan:** whats it like up there_

_**Max:** ?_

_**Nathan:** on your moral high ground_

_**Max:** Don't get pissy, please._

_**Nathan:** twas a joke caulfield_

_**Max:** 'Twas'._

_**Nathan:** fuck off_

_**Nathan:** let me use my dickens language in peace_

_**Max:** I think it's Shakespearean, actually._

Nathan doesn't reply for a while after that.

 

 

**IF YOU CHOSE "GO TO THE LIGHTHOUSE/ARCADIA CLIFFS"**

 

Her phone vibrates loudly on her nightstand, rattling through the wood and making her flinch as she stood. Nathan's caller ID pops up, and she hesitantly picks it up to answer.

"Nathan?"

"Surprise. Listen, about the whole lighthouse thing. Y'know, with you seeing the man of your wet dreams 'n all."

"Uh."

"Jefferson. I mean Jefferson," he says quickly. Max bites back a laugh. "Yeah, it was him."

"What- _why?"_

"There's something I gotta tell you. I was gonna tell you while were driving but then shit went down and I couldn't, etcetera etcetera." _Where is this going?_ "I'll tell you soon. In person. No promises, though, I don't like being held to things."

"Sure...I guess. Although if you skip out on this now and leave me forever wondering what you're talking about, then just know that I'll no longer sleep easy at night, and all I'll be able to think about is-"

"Stop fuckin' reciting prose to me."

"Right."

She hears him sigh on the other end of the phone. "That's all I wanted to say."

"Thanks for letting me know."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"What? No. Seriously. It means a lot that you'd trust me with...whatever you're possibly going to trust me with."

"Hm." Max takes this as a sign that Nathan doesn't know how to end phone calls politely.

"I gotta go, then, I'm supposed to catch up with my old friend and get some assignments done."

"Alright. Cools. Uh, see ya."

The phone is put down abruptly. Ending phone calls is never fun, and that was arguably the most awkward of Max's young life.

 

 

**\- NORMAL ROUTE -**

 

Her phone buzzes as she changes into her shirt and jeans, smoothening the creases down. She should really get to ironing her stuff soon. She just secretly hoped nobody would notice how crinkly they were.

**[1 new message from Nathan]**

_**Nathan:** meet me tomorrow at 10am on the grass_

_**Nathan:** for reasons_

_**Max:** For reasons?_

There's no response after that. Weird. She doesn't spend too long thinking about it, though, and just locks her phone and sets it down. Nathan is unpredictable at the best of times. This is no different. She gathers her books from the floor (why did science textbooks have to be so heavy? There's only so much you can know about mixing chemicals before every boom and bang of powder and fluids starts to look like the last one) and clumsily stuffs them into her bag, wedging them around her Polaroid.

Oh. There's a picture pushed to the side. She...doesn't actually remember taking it, but it's blurry and two figures can be seen in it. _I wonder how long that's been in there._

Birds outside start to tweet, and she quickly checks her emails and Facebook before leaving. Some help on sodium and magnesium reactions from Warren that she never asked for but got anyway, spam emails inviting her to try some bullshit weight loss pill (and she wonders if maybe that's the same thing that Nathan's buying - she noticed the packaging in his trash can when she was last in his room), and a discount code for entry tickets to a local art exhibition.

Her Facebook feed is no different to how it is usually, and therefore no more exciting, but she'll confess that it's kinda fun to see drama going down over guys commenting on other girls' selfies. _Little miss wallflower does enjoy her dose of jealousy-fuelled spite every once in a while,_ she thinks to herself as she scrolls past Victoria's newest modelling album.

And then there's a notification at the top of her screen. _'Do you know this person?'_

"Probably not," she muses aloud before clicking on it. She sees the profile picture before the name - a girl with blue hair and a beanie taking a hit from a bong, her half-lidded eyes not at all focused on the photo.

And then the name hits her. _Chloe Price._

This is almost certainly karma coming back to bite her ass after _still_ neglecting to contact her. The opportunity is almost golden now, and she presses the 'message' button before sending a friend request, just in case it's a different Chloe Price. Not that it would be. The girl in the photo's face looked sorta the same as old Chloe's, even through what little Max could see of it.

The message is rewritten four, five, six times before it's finally sent, and Max shuts her laptop before she can regret it.

**[MESSAGE TO: Chloe Price. FROM: Max Caulfield]**

_**Max:** Hey, Chloe. Long time no see, if this is even you. If you're still in Arcadia Bay, we should hang out again. I missed you while I was in Seattle, and I'm so so so sorry I didn't call or text. But now I'm at Blackwell, and the chance for us to chill like old times is right here. _ _I'd hate to just run into you in someplace inconvenient where we can't hang, so we gotta plan it. W_ _e should totally go sailing again, Captain Price. Get back to me! xoxo Max_

 

**Author's Note:**

> i am in no way glorifying, encouraging or romanticising self harm, i just feel as though it would be an issue that nathan struggles with considering his mental illnesses and everyone basically hating him (for good reason, but it doesn't stop me from feeling bad)
> 
> i might leave this or continue to delve deeper into the caulscott garbage can idk it depends (edit: the trash in here is lovely, wouldn't u agree)
> 
> follow me on the tumbles if u want: polarise.co.vu


End file.
